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STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


BY 

ABRAM  S.  ISAACS,  PH.  D. 

Professor  of  German  and  Hebrew  in  the  University  of  the 

City  of  New  York 


Second  and  Enlarged  Edition 


NEW  YORK 

BLOCH  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1911 


Copyright  1893 

CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  &  CO. 


Copyright  19 I I 

BLOCH  PUBLISHING  CO. 


INTRODUCTION. 


'J^HE  rabbis,  whose  sayings  are  recorded  in  the  Tal¬ 
mud  and  Midrash  —  writings  that  stretch  over 
about  a  thousand  years  —  were  admirable  story-tellers. 
They  were  fond  of  the  parable,  the  anecdote,  the  apt 
illustration,  and  their  legends  that  have  been  transmit¬ 
ted  to  us,  all  aglow  with  the  light  and  life  of  the  Orient, 
possess  perennial  charm.  The  common  impression 
^  that  they  were  rabbinical  Dryasdusts — mere  dreamers, 
always  buried  in  wearisome  disputations,  abstruse 
pedants  dwelling  in  a  solitary  world  of  their  own — is 
wholly  unjust.  They  were  more  than  ecclesiastics  — 
they  were  men;  and  their  cheerful  humanity  forms  the 
secret  to  their  character.  Their  background  was  rather 
sombre — temple  and  nationality  destroyed,  a  succession 
of  foreign  taskmasters,  a  series  of  wars  and  persecutions 
that  would  have  annihilated  any  other  race.  But  if 
the  Roman  drove  his  ploughshare  over  the  site  of  Ju¬ 
daea’s  capital,  the  Hebrew  spirit  refused  to  submit  to 
the  yoke  of  any  conqueror.  In  the  storm  and  stress 
of  centuries  the  rabbis  preserved  a  certain  buoyancy 
and  even  temper,  which  sprang  from  the  fullness  and 
sunniness  of  their  faith.  They  thought  and  studied 
and  debated ;  they  worked  and  dreamt  and  cherished 
hope — 

“  Like  a  poet  hidden 

In  the  light  of  thought. 

Singing  songs  unbidden 
Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy  with  hopes  and  fears  it  heeded  not." 

7 


O 


■}I6i 


8 


IN  TROD  UCTION. 


The  rich  harvest  of  rabbinical  stories  that  survive  can 
be  traced  to  rabbinical  buoyancy.  It  is  a  quality  not 
peculiar  to  the  rabbis;  it  is  distinctly  Oriental.  Nor 
can  absolute  originality  be  claimed  for  their  graceful 
and  suggestive  legends;  they  are  children  of  various 
climes,  these  floating  fairy  tales,  and  the  history  of 
their  migration  from  land  to  land,  and  literature  to 
literature,  is  as  enchanting,  perhaps,  as  the  stories 
themselves.  But  in  Palestine  and  Babylonia  they  re¬ 
ceived  a  coloring  that  was  essentially  rabbinical,  and 
were  applied  by  the  rabbis  to  the  circumstances  of  their 
day.  In  their  hands  they  became  instruments  of  in¬ 
struction  that  formed  the  solace  and  inspiration  of  the 
Jews  in  every  clime.  The  rabbis  were  preachers  par 
excellence.  In  the  school  and  synagogue  they  found 
the  story  the  best  sermon.  They  taught  in  parables. 

The  Talmud  is  by  no  means  merely  a  digest  of  con¬ 
flicting  legal  opinions ;  it  is  rather  a  literature  extend¬ 
ing  over  nearly  a  thousand  years,  and  embracing  views 
on  every  branch  of  thought  by  as  varied  a  body  of  men 
as  ever  assembled  in  such  a  long  parliament  of  almost 
ten  centuries.  It  has  its  mountain  peaks,  cold,  sterile, 
fog-enwreathed,  inaccessible  save  to  the  chosen  few; 
but  it  abounds  none  the  less  in  lovely  meadows,  bright 
with  the  sunshine  of  humanity  and  redolent  with  famil¬ 
iar  flowers,  with  the  blue  sky  ever  near.  There  are 
grave  disputations  by  the  doctors  of  the  law,  profound 
dialectic  harangues,  bristling  with  the  logic  of  the 
schools,  which  an  ordinary  person  would  not  have  the 
presumption  to  understand  ;  but,  happily,  there  are 
cheerful  anecdotes  and  sayings  that  never  lose  their 
interest  and  appeal  to  a  common  humanity.  The  his¬ 
tory  of  the  Talmudic  era  is  written  in  a  minor  key  for 


INTROD  UCTION. 


9 


the  Jew,  but  the  Talmud  itself  is  far  from  being  a 
lamentation.  The  rabbis  of  old  Judaea  blessed  God  in 
seed-time  and  harvest,  in  sunshine  and  rain,  in  joy  and 
sorrow,  and  in  the  flash  of  the  lightning,  in  the  fra¬ 
grance  of  the  rose.  Such  was  their  moral  earnestness, 
so  pure  and  gentle  and  beautiful  their  optimism  in  cen¬ 
turies  of  continuous  chastening,  that  of  them  can  it  be 
truly  said,  they  found  “tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the 
running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every 
thing.” 

In  the  present  volume  a  modest  sheaf  of  arrows  is 
gathered  from  the  rabbinical  quiver.  Their  aim  is  sim¬ 
ply  to  entertain — primarily  the  select  but  constantly 
widening  circle  of  those  interested  in  Oriental  themes, 
and  then  the  intelligent  reading  public  that  will  per¬ 
haps  find  something  novel  at  least  in  these  stories, 
which  illustrate  some  phases  of  life  and  thought  in  old 
Judaea,  and  yet  are  not  wholly  foreign  to  the  culture 
and  tendencies  of  our  own  age.  Nor  are  they  without 
a  certain  educational  value  for  the  young,  embodying 
virtues  which  must  always  be  emphasized.  Their  at¬ 
mosphere  is  one  of  genial  humanity. 

The  stories,  which  strive  to  be  true  to  the  spirit 
of  the  olden  masters,  deal  with  characteristic  traits 
of  rabbinic  thought  and  fancy.  Old  favorites  are 
seen  to  assume  a  new  guise ;  here  are  Faust,  Mar¬ 
garet,  and  Mephisto  hand  in  hand;  here  is  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  a  philosophic  recluse,  and  a  Baron  Mun¬ 
chausen  spins  his  strange  fancies  unchecked.  The 
great  Solomon  on  his  magic  throne  weaves  his  enchant¬ 
ments  and  becomes  a  victim  to  their  spell;  and  Elijah 
the  prophet  proves  the  mysterious  friend  of  mankind 
in  his  everlasting  wanderings.  The  three-leaved  clover, 


lO 


INTROD  UCTION, 


mystic  and  all-powerful,  of  love,  learning  and  benevo¬ 
lence,  is  made  the  subject  of  various  tales.  Some  light 
is  thrown  upon  the  daily  avocations  of  the  rabbis,  and 
their  regard  for  labor  and  its  blessings  ages  before  the 
dawn  of  our  industrial  era.  As  a  kind  of  after  repast 
are  given  a  few  crumbs  from  rabbinical  table-talk  that 
illustrate  the  varied  wit  and  sententious  wisdom  of 
the  sages. 


Some  of  the  stories  appeared  originally  in  the  Atlan¬ 
tic  Monthly y  Su7tday  School  TimeSy  Harper  s  Bazar y  and 
other  periodicals,  but  have  been  revised  and  largely 
rewritten  in  their  present  form. 


PREFACE 

TO  SECOND  EDITION 


The  interest  these  stories  have  aroused  has  led  to 
a  second  edition,  enlarged  and  improved,  which,  it 
is  hoped,  will  meet  with  a  no  less  favorable  reception. 

A.  S.  I. 

New  York,  Sept.  1911. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction,  .  .  .  . 

The  Faust  of  the  Talmud, 

The  Wooing  of  the  Princess,  . 

The  Rip  Van  Winkle  of  the  Talmud, 
Rabbinical  Romance, 

The  Shepherd’s  Wife, 

The  Repentant  Rabbi,  . 

The  Inheritance, 

Elijah  in  the  Legends,  . 

When  Solomon  was  King,  . 
Rabbinical  Humor, 

The  Munchausen  of  the  Talmud, 

The  Rabbi’s  Dream, 

The  Gift  that  Blessed, 

In  the  Sweat  of  Thy  Brow,  . 

A  Four-Leaved  Clover, 

The  Expiation,  ... 

A  String  of  Pearls, 

The  Vanished  Bridegroom 
The  Lesson  of  the  Harvest 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


THE  FAUST  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


O  OLOMON  the  King  was  in  despair.  The 
^  divine  word  had  been  pronounced  that  no 
iron  was  to  be  employed  in  building  the  Tem¬ 
ple,  and  how  was  he  to  erect  a  suitable  edifice 
without  the  aid  of  iron  ?  How  could  he  crush 
huge  masses  of  marble  ?  how  split  adamantine 
rock  ?  how  cleave  hard  boulders  of  wood The 
work  had  to  be  done.  It  was  his  duty  and 
privilege  as  David’s  son.  The  resources  of  a 
mighty  realm  were  at  his  service;  but  without 
the  employment  of  iron  he  could  not  advance 
a  step.  Was  he,  the  sovereign  of  Israel,  to 
abandon  the  undertaking  ?  Were  his  wisdom 
and  his  wealth  in  vain  ? 

“  Let  my  counselors  be  summoned,”  the 
monarch  said.  And  he  laid  his  perplexities 
before  them.  All  were  silent  when  Solomon 
concluded  his  recital.  They,  too,  shared  his 


1 6  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

chagrin  and  realized  their  helplessness.  “  Can 
none  of  you  aid  me  the  King  exclaimed. 

“  O  King  !  ”  said  at  length  one  of  the  sages, 
“  there  is  something  mightier  far  than  iron.  In 
the  early  days  of  creation,  when  light  and  dark¬ 
ness  struggled  for  the  mastery,  the  Almighty 
called  into  life  a  tiny  worm,  Shamivy  which 
possesses  the  property  of  splitting  the  hardest 
rock.” 

“  And  where  lurks  this  worm  Solomon  im¬ 
patiently  asked. 

“  Ah,  your  Majesty,”  the  sage  exclaimed, 
“  there  is  the  difficulty.  No  mortal  spirit  has 
yet  discovered  its  hiding-place.” 

“  That  shall  not  baffle  me,”  Solomon  rejoined. 
“  I  am  more  than  mortal.” 

He  dismissed  the  assembly.  The  courtiers 
and  sages  departed,  but  no  sooner  had  their 
footsteps  died  away  than  Solomon,  arising 
from  his  throne  and  gazing  at  his  dazzling  sig¬ 
net-ring,  upon  which  was  written  the  ineffable 
Name,  summoned  to  his  presence  two  genii. 
With  a  rushing  as  of  a  mighty  wind  and  a  rum¬ 
bling  as  of  an  earthquake  they  bowed  before 
him. 


THE  FA  UST  OF  THE  TALMUD,  I  7 

“What  is  thy  will,  O  master?”  they  ex¬ 
claimed. 

“Tell  me  where  can  I  find  the  Shamir.” 

The  genii  trembled.  “Ask  us  not,  O  mas¬ 
ter.  It  is  our  king  alone,  Ashmodai,  who 
knows  its  secret  abode.” 

“  And  where  does  Ashmodai  live  ?  ”  Solomon 
inquired. 

“Far,  far  from  here,”  they  replied.  “Our 
monarch  dwells  upon  the  crest  of  a  lofty  moun¬ 
tain.  He  has  dug  out  a  deep  pit,  which  he  has 
filled  with  water,  and  covered  with  a  huge 
stone  securely  sealed  to  the  ground.  Daily  he 
ascends  to  heaven  and  returns  to  earth.  Then 
he  closely  examines  the  seal  to  see  whether 
any  one  has  touched  it  and  uncovered  the  well. 
Afterward  he  opens  it  himself,  quenches  his 
thirst,  covers  it  again,  and  reaffixes  the  seal.” 

“Enough!”  cried  Solomon.  “Ye  can  go.” 
And  with  a  rushing  as  of  a  fierce  hurricane  and  a 
rumbling  as  of  a  mighty  earthquake,  the  genii  de¬ 
parted.  In  a  moment  Solomon  called  his  trusty 
captain,  Benaiah,  the  hero  of  a  hundred  battles. 
He  told  him  what  he  wanted,  gave  him  certain 
directions,  a  chain,  and  a  seal  upon  which  was 


1 8  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

stamped  the  ineffable  Name,  and  in  addition 
some  wool,  and  various  skins  filled  with  wine. 
He  then  bade  him  farewell,  with  many  a  secret 
prayer  for  his  success. 

The  warrior’s  journey  was  long  and  toilsome. 
When  Solomon  traveled  he  rode  upon  the  wind. 
Seated  on  his  mantle  of  green  silk,  sixty  miles 
in  breadth  and  sixty  in  length,  the  king  would 
journey  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  He 
could  breakfast  in  Damascus  and  enjoy  his 
evening  meal  in  Media,  so  swift  was  his  flight 
from  east  to  west.  Not  so  Benaiah.  Many 
days  passed  before  he  reached  the  designat¬ 
ed  path.  And  how  desolate  the  mountain  ! 
how  profound  the  stillness !  how  steep  the 
ascent ! 

Nothing  daunted,  Benaiah  set  to  work.  He 
dug  out  a  second  pit  a  little  to  the  right  of 
Ashmodai’s,  drained  off  the  water,  and  plugged 
the  opening  with  wool.  Then  he  dug  out 
another  pit,  higher  up,  whose  channel  led  to 
the  emptied  pit  of  Ashmodai,  and  therein  he 
poured  the  wine. 

His  work  completed,  Benaiah  looked  around 
with  satisfaction,  and  hid  himself  behind  a 


THE  FA  USr  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


19 


stump  of  wood,  while  he  awaited,  full  of  impa¬ 
tience,  Ashmodai’s  arrival. 

The  sun  sank,  the  shadows  of  evening  began 
to  fall,  and  the  stars  shone  out  in  their  niches 
in  the  firmament.  Ashmodai  flew  down  from 
heaven,  examined  the  seal,  and  finding  it  un¬ 
touched,  raised  the  stone  and  descended  into 
the  well.  What  fragrance  assailed  his  senses ! 
It  was  wine,  joy-dispensing  wine  !  Shall  he 
taste  it,  or  spurn  the  temptation  } 

“  Wine  is  a  mocker,"  he  exclaimed,  and  was 
about  to  fly  from  the  spot.  “  But  wine  rejoiceth 
the  heart,"  was  his  next  thought,  and  he  could 
not  flee.  A  great  burning  thirst  overpowered 
him.  He  quaffed  whole  mouthfuls  of  the  intox¬ 
icating  drink.  Again  and  again  he  strove  to 
break  from  the  spell,  but  the  fumes  of  the 
liquor  were  too  enticing.  His  brain  became 
confused;  he  staggered  and  fell.  Deep  sleep 
claimed  him  for  its  own. 

Like  a  flash  Benaiah  sprang  from  his  conceal¬ 
ment,  and  fastened  the  chain  around  Ashmo- 
dai’s  neck. 

Ashmodai  awakes  at  length.  He  perceives 
the  chain,  and  in  his  terror  and  anguish 


20 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


utters  so  wild  a  lamentation  that  the  moun¬ 
tain  trembles.  In  vain  he  strives  to  free  him¬ 
self.  His  eyes  emit  sparks  of  fire;  his  lips 
are  white  with  foam;  his  convulsive  struggles 
are  frightful  in  their  agony.  The  birds  fly 
from  the  scene;  the  stars  fade  in  the  distant 
sky. 

“  Be  patient,  O  mighty  spirit,”  Benaiah  ex¬ 
claimed.  “Thy  struggles  are  useless.  The 
ineffable  Name  is  upon  thee.  Be  still !  ” 

Ashmodai  heaved  a  sigh  so  profound  that 
all  creation  heard  and  trembled;  and  the  genii 
of  the  sea  and  the  air  flew  into  their  innermost 
caverns,  where  they  bewailed  the  fate  of  their 
master. 

“  I  am  calm,”  said  Ashmodai  at  last.  “  I  shall 
obey  thy  will.” 

Benaiah  bade  him  follow,  but  wherever  he 
went,  destruction  seemed  to  be  his  companion. 
Uprooted  trees  and  overturned  houses  marked 
his  path,  as  if  he  wished  to  wreak  vengeance 
on  nature.  He  passed  a  wedding  party,  and 
he  wept  at  their  joy.  “In  three  days,”  said  he, 
“  the  bridegroom  will  die.”  They  hear  a  man  bid 
a  shoemaker  make  his  shoes  last  for  seven 


THE  FA  UST  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


21 


years,  and  Ashmodai  bursts  into  laughter.  “  In 
seven  days,”  he  said,  ‘‘  that  man  may  die,  and 
he  orders  shoes  for  seven  years  !” 

King  Solomon’s  palace  was  gained  at  length, 
and  Ashmodai  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  monarch. 

“  I  ask  but  this  of  thee,”  Solomon  exclaimed: 
“  I  am  to  build  the  holy  Temple,  and  need  the 
Shamir.  Tell  me  where  it  is  concealed.” 

“  I  have  it  not,”  Ashmodai  answered.  “  It 
is  intrusted  to  the  Prince  of  the  Sea,  and  by 
him  confided  to  a  fowl,  who  is  bound  by  a  most 
solemn  oath  to  retain  it  unharmed  for  all  time. 
High  on  a  solitary  mountain-top  the  fowl  has 
made  his  nest.  He  never  forsakes  the  spot. 
Seek  for  him,  O  King.” 

Again  Benaiah  was  summoned  and  again  he 
set  out  on  a  toilsome  journey.  Over  hill  and 
sea  he  wandered,  across  forest  wastes  and 
pathless  meadows;  and  at  last,  upon  the  sum¬ 
mit  of  a  mountain  so  near  the  sky  that  the 
star  -  gleams  seemed  reflected  on  its  rocky 
sides,  he  discovered  the  fowl’s  nest.  With  a 
cry  of  joy  he  started  forward,  and  placed  a 
glass  over  the  nest  so  that  the  fowl  could  see 


22 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


but  not  touch  its  brood.  He  then  concealed 
himself  behind  a  rock. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Soon  the  fowl 
came  to  the  spot,  and  finding  the  hard  glass, 
was  about  to  apply  the  Shamir  to  split  it,  and 
thus  gain  access  to  his  brood,  when  Benaiah 
uttered  a  startling  cry.  In  alarm  the  fowl 
dropped  the  Shamir,  which  was  caught  in  tri¬ 
umph  by  Benaiah,  and  given  in  due  course 
to  Solomon. 

The  Temple  was  completed,  and  Ashmodai 
still  was  held  in  bondage.  Solomon  rioted  in 
his  glory  and  strength.  What  treasures  did 
he  gather,  what  palaces  erect,  what  magnif¬ 
icent  cities  establish  !  The  world  was  ran¬ 
sacked  to  add  to  his  pleasures,  yet  he  was 
never  satisfied.  His  ambition,  his  pride,  his 
love  of  grandeur  and  extravagance,  were  un¬ 
quenchable. 

“  O  King,”  said  Ashmodai,  one  day,  as  he 
noticed  Solomon  in  a  restless  mood,  “thou 
art  become,  thanks  to  my  help,  the  mightiest 
of  mortals.  But,  chained  as  I  am,  my  powers 
are  limited.  Set  me  free;  intrust  to  me  but  for 


THE  FA  UST  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


23 


a  moment  thy  signet-ring,  and  I  shall  make 
thee  still  mightier.” 

The  King  heard,  and  full  of  boastful  pride, 
handed  him  the  precious  ring,  and  struck  off 
the  chain  that  bound  him. 

The  air  grew  black  without  the  palace  hall. 
A  huge  hissing  made  Solomon  turn  pale. 
Ashmodai  rose  to  an  immense  height.  His 
feet  touched  the  earth,  but  his  head  reached 
the  sky.  He  hurls  the  ring  into  the  sea;  he 
casts  Solomon  a  thousand  miles  away.  Then, 
with  the  utmost  unconcern,  he  dons  Solomon’s 
robes  and  assumes  the  monarch’s  privilege. 

Thus  began  the  tragedy  of  Solomon’s  wan¬ 
derings.  As  a  beggar,  unknown  and  uncared 
for,  he  traveled  from  land  to  land. 

“Good  people,  kind  people” — this  was  his 
constant  cry — “  do  not  pass  me  by.  I  am 
Solomon,  King  of  Israel.” 

“Thou  art  kingof beggars,” was  the  answer, 
and  he  turned  from  the  jeers  and  imprecations 
that  followed  him  like  a  plague. 

Tortured  by  the  memories  of  past  grandeur 
and  stung  by  the  spectacle  of  present  neglect, 
he  resolved  to  visit  his  capital  once  more. 


24 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Hope  sweetened  every  privation  and  converted 
each  hill  that  he  climbed  into  the  smoothest 
sward  of  green.  The  stars  that  shone  above 
seemed  to  utter  songs  of  unspeakable  joy.  The 
trees  whispered  fresh  courage.  The  nearer  he 
approached  Jerusalem  the  more  exultant  his 
mood,  until,  as  he  entered  its  busy  streets,  he 
flung  himself  to  the  ground  and  kissed  the 
sod  at  his  feet. 

“  I  am  Solomon,  King  of  Israel,”  he  ex¬ 
claimed  to  the  people  hurrying  by. 

A  chorus  of  jeers  was  the  rejoinder.  Spurned 
by  the  populace,  thrust  from  his  palace  gate, 
despised  and  rejected,  Solomon  turned  in  de¬ 
spair  from  Jerusalem;  and  one  evening,  as  its 
towers  were  bathed  in  the  moonlight,  he  began 
his  wanderings  anew. 

Toward  the  royal  city  of  Ammon  he  betook 
himself,  and  soon  arrived  at  the  palace,  at 
whose  gate  he  knocked  as  humbly  as  the  low¬ 
est  slave  in  the  realm. 

“  Take  pity  on  me,”  said  he,  in  tones  of  en¬ 
treaty,  as  the  gate  was  opened.  “  I  am  starv¬ 
ing  and  foot-sore  from  travel.  I  am  willing  to 
do  any  service  for  a  little  shelter.” 


THE  FA  UST  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


25 


“  I  do  need  help,”  the  royal  cook  exclaimed. 
“  Enter,  and  thou  canst  abide  with  us.” 

It  was  Solomon’s  duty  to  carry  wood,  to 
draw  water,  and  perform  other  menial  service, 
but  the  cook  quickly  noticed  that  the  man  was 
superior  to  such  work.  He  loved  to  talk  of 
higher  things,  and  would  gather  the  royal  re¬ 
tainers  in  the  twilight  and  discourse  to  them  of 
nature  in  its  beauty  and  power,  of  plants  and 
their  changes,  of  animals  and  their  haunts. 
He  spoke  of  trees,  from  the  cedar  of  Lebanon 
to  the  hyssop  that  springeth  from  the  wall, 
and  he  told  the  hidden  lore  of  the  stars,  and  all 
with  such  grace  that  the  servants  began  to 
esteem  him,  and  the  cook  made  him  his  assist¬ 
ant.  The  dishes  that  Solomon  prepared 
pleased  the  King,  and  he  was  appointed  chief 
steward.  How  the  household  rejoiced  at  his 
advancement !  but  none  with  greater  pride 
than  Naama,  the  lovely  daughter  of  the  King, 
a  fair  and  stately  maiden,  whose  heart  had 
gone  out  to  Solomon.  And  Solomon  recipro¬ 
cated  her  affection;  he  sang  to  her  thrilling 
songs  of  love.  He  compared  her  beauty  to 
Jerusalem,  and  bade  her  turn  away  her  eyes 


26 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


lest  they  might  undo  him  in  their  splendor. 
He  prayed  for  the  shadows  to  flee  and  the 
day  to  dawn — the  shadows  of  servitude  and 
the  day  of  restoration  to  his  throne.  Then, 
as  his  tones  of  sadness  made  her  counten¬ 
ance  troubled,  he  changed  his  mood  and 
exclaimed, 

“  Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thine  heart, 

As  a  seal  upon  thine  arm, 

For  love  is  as  strong  as  death.” 

The  secret  of  their  love  could  not  long  remain 
concealed.  Despite  Naama’s  entreaties,  Sol¬ 
omon  was  condemned  to  death,  and  it  was  only 
her  mother’s  tears  that  influenced  the  King  to 
sentence  him  instead  to  lifelong  exile  in  the 
desert. 

In  the  solitude  of  this  wilderness  Solo¬ 
mon’s  heart  was  chastened  at  last,  his  proud, 
boastful  spirit  purified.  God  seemed  nearer  to 
him  in  his  loneliness  than  when  he  reveled  in 
Jerusalem.  Was  it  his  pure  love  for  Na'ama 
which  had  worked  the  change,  or  his  long-con¬ 
tinued  wanderings  and  sufferings  }  He  felt  a 
different  man.  Hope  sprang  anew  in  his  heart, 


THE  FA  UST  OF  THE  TALMUD. 


27 


not  of  power  or  earthly  aggrandizement,  but  a 
hope  of  higher  things — wisdom,  love,  right¬ 
eousness. 

“  I  thank  thee,  my  Creator,”  he  cried,  as  he 
bowed  in  prayer.  “Thou  hast  taught  me  the 
lesson.  Thou  art  the  King  of  kings  alone. 
Blessed  be  Thy  holy  Name.” 

Full  of  peace,  although  his  raiment  was  tat¬ 
tered,  he  left  the  desert  and  entered  a  city  by 
the  sea.  A  fisherman  approached  and  offered 
a  fish  for  sale.  He  purchased  it  with  his  last 
coin,  and  opening  it,  found  therein  his  holy 
signet  -  ring,  which  Ashmodai  had  cast  into 
the  sea. 

But  little  remains  to  be  told.  How  Solomon 
regained  his  regal  splendor,  how  he  married 
the  faithful  Naama,  how  he  confronted  Ash¬ 
modai  the  usurper  and  made  him  vanish  at 
sight  of  the  ring,  how  he  assembled  the  San¬ 
hedrim  and  told  them  all  his  trials  and  tri¬ 
umphs — is  this  not  written  between  the  lines 
in  the  Talmud?  But  while  the  people  soon 
forgot  the  romance  and  the  tragedy,  and  the 
story  of  the  King’s  return  became  only  a  nine- 


28 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


days’  wonder,  Solomon  himself  never  lost  the 
impressions  of  those  years  of  wandering.  A 
certain  fear  never  left  his  mind;  and  in  the 
night-time,  so  the  Song  of  Songs  relates,  his 
couch  was  guarded  by  sixty  armed  men. 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS. 


AT  7 HO  could  be  happier  than  Solomon  ? 

^  ^  His  land  was  at  peace,  his  treasury 
full,  his  power  acknowledged  by  the  nations; 
his  fleet  covered  the  seas;  his  court  attracted 
the  best  and  wisest  of  his  age.  Learning  and 
science,  art  and  the  industries  flourished.  Jeru¬ 
salem,  his  capital,  shone  with  unexampled 
splendor;  its  Temple  and  stately  edifices,  pub¬ 
lic  and  private,  were  the  glory  of  the  time,  and 
thousands  of  strangers  drew  near  from  all  cor¬ 
ners  of  the  earth.  It  was  indeed  a  stirring  life 
which  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  daily  witnessed 
— the  meeting  place  of  Orient  and  Occident. 

Yet  Solomon  was  ill  at  ease  despite  his 
grandeur.  His  wisdom,  the  source  of  his 
strength,  was  also  the  secret  of  his  weakness. 
Strange  irony  of  fate!  He  knew  all  languages, 
spoke  three  thousand  proverbs,  many  of  which 
were  to  be  transmitted  from  age  to  age,  and 

29 


30 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


sang  a  multitude  of  songs.  He  knew  the  speech 
of  birds  and  beasts,  the  mystery  of  trees  and 
flowers;  all  nature  was  at  his  feet;  he  solved 
its  riddles  and  became  its  sage  interpreter.  If 
his  knowledge  had  not  passed  these  limits,  all 
would  have  been  well,  and  the  clouds  of  unrest 
would  have  been  dissipated.  But  it  transcend¬ 
ed  things  of  earth,  and  with  bold  confidence 
penetrated  the  secrets  of  the  spheres  above.  It 
was  his  familiarity  with  the  stars  that  gave  him 
the  sharpest  pang.  What,  then,  did  the  stars 
tell  him  }  What  dreadful  catastrophe  was 
threatening  his  house }  These  golden-eyed 
forget-me-nots,  shining  in  the  firmament  of 
blue  so  peacefully  and  trustfully,  could  they 
presage  woe  } 

Solomon  was  blessed  not  only  with  power 
and  wisdom,  but  also  with  a  daughter  of  sur¬ 
passing  loveliness.  When  the  evening  shad¬ 
ows  fell  upon  Zion’s  hills,  he  loved  to  sing  to 
her  his  choicest  song.  In  the  morning  hours, 
his  converse  with  her  was  his  sole  recreation. 
His  soul  was  knitted  to  hers  with  passionate 
tenderness.  When  affairs  of  state  weighed 
upon  him  and  a  thousand  perplexities  were  to 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS.  3 1 

be  faced,  he  turned  to  her  and  found  relief. 
She  was  his  solace  and  inspiration,  as  was  her 
mother  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  when  to  wed 
the  maiden  of  his  heart  he  left  throne  and  peo¬ 
ple,  and  wandered,  a  foot-sore  pilgrim,  until 
he  met  Naama  and  plighted  his  royal  troth. 
How  rapidly  had  the  years  passed  since  then  ! 
what  changes  had  they  brought  !  But  Solo¬ 
mon  lived  again  his  old-time  romance  as  he 
saw  Naama’s  eyes  in  his  daughter’s  counte¬ 
nance.  And  the  princess  repaid  the  father’s 
love  by  a  daughter’s  devotion — he  was  in  truth 
her  ideal  king,  for  she  knew  the  tender  side  of 
his  nature,  the  heart-throbbings  which  he  must 
restrain  from  public  view. 

One  evening  as  Solomon  was  observing  the 
stars,  the  thought  occurred  to  him  to  discover 
who  was  destined  to  be  the  princess’s  husband. 
Without  delay  he  set  to  work:  he  would  learn 
her  good  fortune.  Long  and  intently  he  gazed 
at  the  constellations.  Silent  and  profound 
were  his  meditations  in  the  watches  of  the 
night;  and  then,  just  as  the  first  dim  light 
spanned  the  far  east,  and  the  morning  stars 
were  singing  their  cradle-song  for  the  new  day, 


32 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


the  monarch’s  heart  felt  an  unaccustomed  pain. 
He  read  the  secret  of  his  daughter’s  fate.  There 
it  stood,  blazoned,  all  too  plainly,  on  the  fiery 
constellation — she  was  to  wed  the  poorest  man 
in  Israel  !  She,  a  princess,  and  his  daughter  ! 

Solomon  left  his  watch-tower  with  agonized 
soul.  The  knowledge  he  had  gained  fairly 
overwhelmed  him.  For  once  the  rising  day, 
which  was  wont  to  arouse  his  poetic  powers, 
had  for  him  no  charm.  Bird-note,  flower-fra¬ 
grance,  the  music  of  rippling  waters,  the  mag¬ 
nificence  of  his  surroundings,  his  books,  songs, 
and  favorite  pastimes,  palled  upon  him.  His 
lovely  daughter  in  vain  strove  to  soothe  his 
disturbed  spirit,  which  first  amazed,  then 
alarmed  her.  Each  fresh  endearment  only 
increased  his  irritation.  Her  voice,  once  so 
gentle,  seemed  to  him  as  harsh  as  a  condor’s 
scream.  Her  maiden  heart  was  troubled  in¬ 
deed  as  she  noticed  the  change  in  the  King, 
which  she  could  not  fathom  nor  control,  and 
she  withdrew,  weeping,  from  his  presence. 

“It  shall  not  be!”  Solomon  exclaimed  in 
his  wrath  and  consternation.  “  My  daughter 
wed  a  beggar  !  A  pauper’s  child  to  sit  upon 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS. 


the  throne  of  David  !  Nay,  I  shall  defeat  the 
Almighty.  I  shall - ” 

There  fell  a  sudden  silence  on  his  imperious 
spirit.  A  picture  from  the  past  arose  before 
his  vision,  faint  at  first  and  then  clearer  and 
more  vivid  in  outline.  It  was  a  king  hurled 
from  his  throne  on  account  of  his  insatiate  pride 
and  ambition,  and  doomed  to  wander  unknown 
and  to  suffer  severe  privations  until  he  had 
learned  the  lesson  of  self-control  and  confi¬ 
dence  in  the  Almighty.  He  saw  the  precious 
ring  which  he  gave  Ashmodai,  and  heard  the 
fierce  yell  of  triumph  as  the  demon  ascended 
the  throne,  while  he — Solomon  the  Great — 
sank  down,  down,  into  an  unfathomable  abyss. 
Then  another  picture  arose  in  memory — the 
weary  fugitive,  spurned  and  despised  on  all 
sides,  famine-stricken  and  sick  at  heart,  until 
the  lesson  of  peace  was  learned  at  last. 

“Forgive  me,  forgive  me.  Almighty!”  he 
cried  passionately.  “  Must  I  learn  again  the 
fearful  cost  of  mortal  pride  }  Forgive  me  for 
doubting  Thy  purposes  and  measuring  my  puny 
powers  with  the  Infinite  I  Let  Thy  will  be 
done.  I  shall  watch  Thy  wisdom  and  abide  by 


34 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


the  result.  My  heart  has  lost  its  anguish  and 
its  fear.  I  trust  in  Thee  with  my  whole  heart 
and  shall  not  lean  to  my  own  understanding.” 

Upon  the  rocky  sea-coast,  far  distant  from 
the  haunts  of  men,  Solomon  had  a  lofty  tower 
constructed.  It  was  surrounded  on  all  sides 
by  walls  high  and  inaccessible.  People  won¬ 
dered  at  the  building,  but  Solomon,  uncon¬ 
cerned,  continued  the  work  until  it  was  com¬ 
pleted.  Thither  one  night  he  had  the  princess 
brought,  and  placed  her  in  charge  of  seventy 
aged  custodians.  The  princess  herself  could 
interpose  no  objection  or  resistance  to  the  royal 
will.  “  This  shall  be  your  home,”  said  he  to 
the  oldest  and  trustiest.  “  It  is  amply  pro¬ 
visioned  for  years  to  come.  There  is  no  door 
to  the  fortress,  so  no  one  can  enter  without 
the  sentinel’s  knowledge.  Be  vigilant.  Keep 
the  princess  in  sight  every  instant.  Your 
heads  shall  be  the  price  of  your  remissness.” 

The  days,  the  weeks,  the  months  flew  by, 
and  the  princess  lived  uncomplainingly  in  her 
solitary  abode,  so  firm  was  her  trust  in  Sol¬ 
omon.  She  felt  confident  that  all  was  for  the 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS.  35 

best,  and  restrained  her  impatience  and  won¬ 
derment. 

One  night  a  poor,  helpless  wanderer  was 
toiling  along,  tired  and  hungry,  his  garments 
tattered,  his  heart  utterly  cast  down.  At  last 
he  could  move  no  further,  such  was  his  ex¬ 
haustion,  and  seeking  a  spot  to  rest,  he  saw 
the  skeleton  of  an  ox  in  a  neighboring  field. 
Thankful  for  the  shelter  from  the  cheerless 
wind,  he  crept  inside,  and  with  a  silent  prayer 
fell  asleep.  The  elements  raged  without,  but 
he  cared  not  for  the  storm.  He  forgot  his  cares 
and  sufferings  in  blessed,  restful  sleep,  and  hope 
struck  golden  chords  in  the  witchery  of  dreams. 

While  the  traveler  thus  slept,  all  unconscious 
of  what  was  preparing  for  him,  a  huge  bird 
with  mighty  pinions  alighted  from  the  distant 
hills,  and  lifting  up  the  skeleton  with  the  youth 
at  rest,  bore  them  aloft  to  the  very  summit  of 
Solomon’s  tower.  The  burden  then  proving 
too  heavy,  it  was  set  down  on  the  roof,  before 
the  door  of  the  princess.  Then  the  bird  flew 
away  with  a  shrill  scream,  that  thoroughly 
awakened  the  young  traveler.  He  arose  in 
terror,  gazed  about  him  amazed,  and  began  to 


36 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


walk  up  and  down  the  roof,  from  which  he 
could  descry  only  the  rocks  below  and  the 
clouds  above.  In  the  distance  he  saw  the  fast¬ 
disappearing  pinions  of  the  bird  that  had 
brought  him  there,  and  a  sharp  pang  smote  his 
heart  as  the  full  measure  of  his  wretchedness 
was  realized.  He  was  a  hopeless  prisoner — to 
what  further  misery  was  he  to  become  a  prey  ? 

Suddenly  he  sees  a  woman  advancing  tow¬ 
ard  him.  She  is  young  and  beautiful,  and  with 
a  commanding  air,  yet  gracious  and  kind.  It 
was  the  princess  taking  her  daily  stroll  on  the 
roof.  Astonished  at  sight  of  the  youth,  she 
exclaimed,  “  Who  art  thou  ?  How  earnest  thou 
here  .?  ” 

“  I  am  a  Jew  of  Acco,”  was  the  reply.  “  It 
was  a  bird  that  brought  me.” 

“  But  thou  art  tired  and  tattered,”  she  con¬ 
tinued,  pityingly.  “  Thy  face  bears  the  marks 
of  misfortune.  Thou  art  troubled  and  suffer¬ 
ing.  Come,  tell  me  thy  history.” 

He  told  her  of  his  wanderings,  and  how  he 
had  sunk  to  rest  in  the  skeleton  of  an  ox,  and 
then  of  his  flight  through  the  air.  How  en¬ 
tranced  did  she  listen  to  his  story,  admiring 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS, 


37 


his  courage,  and  sympathizing  with  his  sorrows. 
She  had  him  clothed  in  new  garments.  Her 
servants  bathed  and  anointed  him.  Then  his 
eyes  shone  with  new  radiance,  and  his  whole 
being  assumed  a  lovelier  aspect.  As  they 
spoke  and  strolled  together  kindred  tastes  were 
revealed.  For  the  first  time  the  princess  real¬ 
ized  the  beauty  in  her  father’s  words,  written 
decades  before:  “  My  friend  is  mine,  and  I  am 
his;  ”  while  the  youth,  as  he  contemplated  the 
solitary  tower  and  the  imprisoned  maiden,  ex¬ 
claimed  with  Solomon:  “A  locked-up  garden 
is  my  sister  -  bride;  a  locked-up  spring,  a 
sealed  fountain.” 

The  north  wind  blew,  and  the  south  wind 
blew.  They  loved,  for  both  were  beautiful  to 
each  other,  and  the  world  was  before  them. 
What  should  they  do  }  Fly,  and  seek  happi¬ 
ness  in  some  distant  spot  far  away  from  the  king, 
whose  anger  they  had  now  every  reason  to  fear.-* 

“  Nay,  nay,  beloved  !  ”  she  ardently  ex¬ 
claimed.  “  My  father’s  wisdom  would  discover 
our  hiding-place,  and  his  chieftain,  Benaiah, 
would  drag  us  back  to  Jerusalem,  to  meet  per¬ 
haps  a  criminal’s  fate.” 


38 


Sl'ORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS, 


There  is  one  resource,  dearest,”  he  rejoined 
after  a  pause.  “  Marry  me  here.” 

“  Marry  thee  ?  Yes,  that  I  will,  but  how  can 
we  marry  according  to  the  law  of  Israel  ? 
Where  is  the  ink  with  which  to  write  the  mar¬ 
riage  certificate  ?  Hast  thou  thought  of  that }  ” 
“  Despair  not !  ”  was  his  reassuring  reply.  “  I 
am  prepared  for  every  emergency.”  He  bared 
his  arm,  and,  opening  a  small  vein,  used  his  blood 
as  ink,  and  the  marriage  was  secretly  solem¬ 
nized,  with  the  words,  “  May  God  be  my  witness 
to-day,  and  the  angels  Michael  and  Gabriel  !  ” 
Their  spell  of  happiness  was  brief.  The  cus¬ 
todians  of  the  princess  were  thrown  into  the 
wildest  consternation  when  they  discovered 
what  had  taken  place.  They  stormed,  they 
raged,  they  threatened.  But  it  was  too  late  to 
argue  with  the  pair.  No  more  time  was  to  be 
lost,  so  they  hastily  sent  the  swiftest-footed 
of  their  number  to  the  royal  palace,  and  the 
story  was  told. 

Solomon  no  sooner  heard  the  announcement 
of  his  daughter’s  marriage  than  he  ordered  his 
mantle  to  be  brought  for  instant  use.  It  was 
of  green  silk,  interwoven  with  fine  gold,  and 


THE  WOOING  OF  THE  PRINCESS. 


39 


embroidered  with  images  of  all  kinds.  He  sat 
upon  it,  and  swiftly  was  borne  on  the  wind  to 
the  solitary  tower. 

“  Where  is  the  youth,”  he  vehemently  cried, 
as  he  gained  entrance,  “  who  has  dared  to 
marry  my  daughter  1  ” 

“  Nay,  father,”  the  princess  pleaded,  “  be  not 
angry  with  him.  He  has  endured  enough  of 
wretchedness — why  begrudge  him  his  spell  of 
happiness  }  Reproach  me,  but  spare  him,  for 
love  is  our  master,  and  thou  didst  write  in  thy 
‘  Song  of  Songs,’  ‘  love  is  as  strong  as  death.’  ” 

He  deigned  no  reply  to  his  daughter.  His 
thoughts  were  of  the  man  who  had  won  her 
affections.  “  So  thou  art  the  one  who  has  pre¬ 
sumed  to  marry  a  princess  !  ”  he  exclaimed, 
scornfully,  as  the  youth  was  brought  to  him, 
showing  not  a  trace  of  fear. 

“  Oh,  King,”  he  rejoined,  calmly,  “  be  not 
too  severe  !  I  but  obeyed  the  words  of  Solo¬ 
mon:  ‘Many  waters  are  not  able  to  quench 
love,  nor  can  the  waters  flood  it  away.’  ” 

“  Who  is  thy  father,  and  where  thy  dwelling- 
place  ”  inquired  the  king,  softening  a  little  at 
the  youth’s  tone  and  words. 


40 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


“I  am  the  son  of  a  poor  Jew  of  Acco,”  was  the 
answer.  “Altamaris  his  name.”  And  his  heart 
grieved  as  he  thought  of  his  family’s  poverty. 

“  What  ?  ”  almost  shouted  the  king,  while  he 
trembled  in  his  agitation.  “  The  son  of  Alta- 
mar  of  Acco,  the  poorest  man  in  Israel  !  ” 
“Yes,  oh.  King,  I  am  that  poor  man’s  son,” 
and  the  youth  for  the  moment  lost  his  courage, 
but  regained  confidence  as  he  saw  the  princess 
step  forward  and  take  her  place  proudly  at 
his  side,  looking  lovingly  at  him. 

“He  is  my  husband,”  she  exclaimed  in  a 
clear,  firm  voice,  “  according  to  the  laws  of  Is¬ 
rael.  With  his  blood  he  has  sealed  our  troth. 
Our  union  is  irrevocable.  A  higher  Power  has 
led  us  on.  Thou  canst  not  part  us  now.” 

“  Nay,  nay,  my  daughter,”  Solomon  re¬ 
sponded,  deeply  moved.  “  He  is  indeed  thy 
husband  and  my  son,”  and  he  beckoned  them 
both  to  approach  nearer.  “  Thou  art  the  very 
man  who — so  the  stars  told  me — was  destined 
for  my  daughter.  Thy  name,  thy  lineage,  thy 
estate  proclaim  thee  the  same.  God  is  the  ruler 
of  the  universe  :  He  declares,  and  it  comes  to 
pass.  Blessed  is  He  who  giveth  a  wife  to  man.” 


THE  RIP  VAN  WINKLE  OF  THE 


TALMUD. 


GES  ago — it  was  about  fifteen  hundred 


^  years — there  lived  a  man  whose  name 
was  Rabbi  Honi.  In  his  busy  and  stirring 
times  he  loved  solitude,  the  quiet  fields,  the 
silent  hills,  the  lonely  mountain  rivulet,  any¬ 
thing  that  would  make  him  forget  his  daily 
surroundings.  He  liked  to  take  long  walks  by 
himself,  in  such  profound  meditation  that  he 
heeded  not  the  passing  scene.  He  refused, 
self-absorbed,  to  mingle  in  the  varied  life  of 
the  world.  The  cheerful  forge,  the  merry 
reaper,  the  crowded  street,  boys  and  girls  at 
play,  music  and  games — he  would  spurn  all 
these,  and  far  away  from  the  haunts  and  habi¬ 
tations  of  men  would  he  wander,  as  if  this 
bright  and  blessed  world  had  neither  charm 
nor  interest  for  him. 

“  What  is  life  ^  what  is  life  ?  ”  he  asked  him- 


41 


42 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


self,  as  with  slow  and  measured  step  he  crossed 
the  meadows,  far  beyond  the  outskirts  of  his 
native  town.  “  It  is  like  the  fleeting  shadow,” 
so  he  thought;  “  not  like  the  shadow  of  a  tree, 
nor  yet  the  shadow  of  a  wall,  but  like  the  shad¬ 
ow  of  a  bird,  which  mounts  aloft,  and  swiftly 
flies  away.” 

He  sighed  as  he  went  along,  as  though  he 
were  bearing  some  hidden  burden,  some  un¬ 
known  care,  that  changed  into  wretchedness 
the  currents  of  his  being.  But  his  sadness  was 
converted  into  wonderment,  as  he  saw  an  old 
man  planting  a  carob-tree.  Love  and  happi¬ 
ness  beamed  from  that  aged  face,  while  with 
trembling  hands  and  tottering  limbs  he  busied 
himself  with  the  task. 

“  Unfortunate  man  !  ”  cried  Honi,  in  a  voice 
of  scorn,  “what  folly  is  thine!  Dost  thou 
waste  thy  feeble  powers  in  planting  a  tree 
whose  fruit  will  grow  in  seventy  years  Dost 
thou  hope  to  live  so  long  }  Poor  fool,  poor 
fool  I  It  is  a  world  of  fools.” 

“  Master,”  the  old  man  replied  in  gentle 
tones,  “  thou  art  mistaken;  I  plant  the  tree, 
not  for  myself.  In  my  youth,  I  gathered  fruit 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  OF  THE  TALMUD.  43 

from  trees  which  my  grandsires  planted;  and 
now  I,  too,  would  provide  in  this  way,  at  least, 
for  the  happiness  of  my  descendants.  It  is  an 
innocent  pleasure,  on  my  part,  and  makes  me 
happy.”  And  the  old  man,  with  heightened 
color  and  shining  eyes,  continued  his  work. 

“  Happiness,  happiness  !  ”  murmured  Honi 
to  himself  “  What  is  happiness  when  life  is  so 
fleeting,  and  failure  the  universal  law  of  nature  } 
Why  should  we  concern  ourselves  with  the  fu¬ 
ture,  when  our  present  burdens  are  so  many, 
with  no  prospect  of  cessation  ?  Why  provide 
that  our  children  gather  ripe,  luscious  fruit,  to 
make  their  lives  happier  ?  Will  they  not  suffer 
and  die,  and  is  not  our  labor  vain  ?  ” 

Unable  to  answer  these  questions,  oppressed 
by  doubt,  and  wearied  by  his  walk,  Honi  sank 
upon  the  grass  and  fell  asleep  with  a  child’s 
unconsciousness.  The  sun  sank  to  rest,  and 
still  the  rabbi  slept.  The  stars  shone  in  the 
clear  Eastern  skies,  and  still  he  slept.  Dawn 
broke,  and  midday  came,  and  a  hundred  nights 
passed,  and  still  he  slumbered.  What  profound 
peace  was  his  !  Soon  a  wall  of  stones  sprang 
up  around  him,  and  formed  a  friendly  shelter 


44 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


that  hid  him  from  passers-by.  So  the  years  ran 
on  with  rapid  tread,  summer  and  winter,  seed¬ 
time  and  harvest,  with  all  their  varied  changes, 
and  the  rabbi  did  not  wake,  although  each  day 
the  sunbeams  hastened  to  greet  his  resting- 
place,  diffused  a  kindly  heat,  and  seemed  re¬ 
luctant  to  leave.  Was  this  circle  of  stones  his 
cemetery  ?  Was  the  rabbi  forgotten  by  the 
world,  whose  claims  he  had  not  recognized  ? 

Seventy  years  had  elapsed,  when  suddenly 
the  stone  wall  disappeared  as  mysteriously  as 
it  had  first  originated,  and  the  rabbi  awoke. 
He  rose  to  his  feet  a  little  awkwardly  at  the 
start,  as  if  unused  to  much  exertion.  Then  he 
rubbed  his  eyes,  glanced  in  every  direction, 
and  exclaimed:  “I  have  had  a  pretty  long 
sleep.  It  was  scarcely  night  when  I  sank  to 
rest,  and  now  it  is  almost  midday.  How  stiff 
my  limbs  are  !  I  must  hurry  home.” 

Somewhat  dazed  by  the  sudden  glare  of  the 
sun,  and  with  a  peculiar  confusion  in  mind  and 
gait  he  set  upon  his  way.  His  steps  were  slow 
and  hesitating,  when,  seeing  a  carob-tree,  he 
stood  rooted  to  the  spot.  Like  birds  returning 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  OF  THE  TALMUD.  45 

to  their  nest,  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  the 
scene — the  old  man,  the  planting  of  the  tree, 
his  own  words  of  scorn  seventy  years  before. 
Surprised,  amazed,  he  approached  nearer,  and 
saw  how  stately  the  tree  had  grown,  with  its 
rich  vegetation.  A  lad  was  eating  of  its  fruit. 

“  Boy,  boy  !  ”  exclaimed  Honi,  in  a  voice  of 
anxiety  which  was  not  to  be  restrained;  “  tell 
me,  who  planted  this  carob-tree  }  ” 

“  Not  I,”  the  lad  replied,  with  a  light  laugh. 
“  Don’t  you  know  how  long  it  takes  such  a  tree 
to  bear  fruit  ?  Why,  my  father  told  me  that  it 
was  planted  by  my  grandsire.”  And  the  boy 
continued  eating  to  his  satisfaction,  without 
noticing  the  stranger’s  anxious  glance  and  pe¬ 
culiar  garb. 

The  lad’s  words  were  not  lost  upon  Honi; 
he  grasped  at  once  their  true  significance.  He 
knew  at  last  that  he  had  slept  seventy  years. 
A  nameless  dread  fell  upon  him  as  he  resumed 
his  way  homeward.  But  the  once  familiar  path 
had  disappeared — the  hills  of  his  youth  ’had 
been  leveled.  The  green  sward,  which  had 
yielded  to  his  footsteps  of  old,  had  given  place 
to  rows  of  houses,  and  the  long  line  of  spread- 


46 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


ing  trees,  beneath  which  he  had  so  often 
mused,  was  no  more  to  be  seen.  The  blue  sky, 
so  radiant  in  sunshine,  seemed  more  distant 
than  ever.  Earth  and  heaven  alike  had 
changed. 

He  was  soon  in  the  heart  of  his  native  town, 
but  he  recognized  it  not.  The  streets,  the 
houses,  the  people,  were  alike  strange.  There 
was  not  a  friendly  hand  stretched  forth  to  grasp 
his  own;  not  a  smile  greeted  him;  not  a  voice 
gave  him  welcome.  The  multitude  passed  him 
idly  by.  There  were  curious  looks  directed  on 
him,  and  he  caught  now  and  then  a  contempt¬ 
uous  phrase.  Some  countenances  seemed 
familiar  to  him,  but  they  stared  coldly  when 
he  began  to  address  them,  and  his  heart  sank 
within  him. 

“  If  my  friends  and  acquaintances  no  longer 
know  me,”  so  ran  his  thoughts,  “at  least  my 
family  will  not  spurn  me;  to  them  I  will  go, 
and  seek  rest  in  their  midst.” 

Buoyed  up  by  sudden  hope,  he  inquired  of  a 
passer-by  the  dwelling  of  Honi’s  family,  and 
soon  with  loudly  throbbing  heart  knocked  at 
the  door.  It  opened,  and  a  scene  of  household 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  OF  THE  TALMUD.  47 

happiness  was  revealed.  There  were  strong, 
healthy  lads  at  play,  their  smiling  mother  shar¬ 
ing  their  joy,  and  a  man  of  well-knit  frame  ply¬ 
ing  his  work.  As  Honi  entered,  the  room  grew 
silent,  and  all  eyes  were  cast  compassionately 
upon  the  bearded  stranger,  with  the  sad,  weary 
countenance. 

Approaching  the  man,  Honi  asked  in  a 
trembling  tone,  “  Wilt  thou  call  for  me  the  son 
of  Honi .?  ’’ 

“  Honi’s  son  !  ”  replied  the  man  with  an 
astonished  air.  “  Why,  he  has  been  dead  many 
years.” 

“But  who  art  thou,  then  ”  And  the  old 
man’s  head  sank  lower  and  lower. 

“  I  am  Honi’s  grandson.” 

With  a  loud  exclamation  of  jo^y,  Honi  drew 
nearer  his  grandson,  and  was  about  to  embrace 
him  rapturously,  saying:  “  I  am  thy  grand¬ 
father.” 

But  the  man  coldly  stepped  back,  gazed  at 
him  a  moment,  and  said:  “Thou  my  grand¬ 
father  !  I  do  not  know  thee  !  I  never  saw 
thee  !  What  monstrous  imposition  dost  thou 
wish  to  practise  on  us  ” 


48 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Honi  then  told  his  wondrous  story  of  the 
sleep  under  the  wall  of  stones,  of  his  sudden 
awakening,  and  his  return.  He  described  his 
sense  of  desolation  and  helplessness,  when  he 
found  himself  a  stranger  among  strangers,  and 
he  entreated  them  to  deal  with  him  more  kindly 
and  justly,  being  flesh  of  their  flesh. 

Honi’s  eloquence  had  at  least  one  effect — it 
convinced  his  hearers  of  his  sincerity.  He  evi¬ 
dently  believed  that  he  was  the  long-missing 
Honi,  and  they  had  not  the  heart  to  undeceive 
him,  or  openly  tell  him  of  their  want  of  faith. 
They  resolved  to  humor  him,  and  receive  him 
as  an  honored  guest  in  the  house,  allowing  him 
to  do  whatever  he  pleased. 

Thus  Honi  returned.  His  story  was  noised 
abroad.  He  became  the  talk  of  the  town. 
They  all  thronged  to  see  him,  and  to  learn  if 
he  really  was  the  rabbi  whose  mysterious  dis¬ 
appearance  had  aroused  such  comment  at  the 
time,  to  be  forgotten  with  the  new  generation. 
The  stir  and  inquiry,  however,  soon  grew  less, 
then  ceased  entirely,  and  Honi  was  left  to  him¬ 
self  again.  The  home  of  his  youth  had  under¬ 
gone  a  transformation:  it  was  his  no  more.  At 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE  OF  THE  TALMUD,  49 

his  own  hearth  he  was  a  stranger.  When  he 
had  many  friends,  he  had  abandoned  them,  and 
courted  solitude;  now,  when  he  yearned  for 
love  and  friendship,  he  was  doomed  to  solitude. 
The  whirligig  of  time  brings  its  revenges. 

He  strove  to  rouse  himself  as  the  days  flew 
by.  He  would  mingle  with  the  teachers,  for 
he  had  been  a  teacher  in  his  time.  When  he 
met  them  he  knew  them  not,  nor  did  they  rec¬ 
ognize  him.  It  was  pathetic  for  him  to  note  in 
the  school  of  learning  how  his  name  was  spoken 
with  great  veneration,  his  verses  quoted,  his 
opinions  discussed,  his  principles  referred  to 
and  made  the  subject  of  keen  controversy.  And 
he  sat  and  listened  as  if  he  were  already  buried 
— he,  the  living  Honi — while  his  eyes  were  full 
of  tears. 

He  often  wondered  whether,  in  the  years 
when  he  was  concealed  by  the  circle  of  stones, 
he  was  less  an  object  of  concern  than  now, 
when  he  breathed  the  air  of  heaven  and  thrice 
each  day  uttered  his  praise  to  God — at  morn, 
midday  and  eve.  Why  had  life  been  restored 
to  him,  if  his  existence  was  to  continue  a  bit¬ 
ter  mockery  ?  Why  must  his  yearnings  and 


50 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


aspirations  remain  ever  unsatisfied  ?  He  loved 
mankind,  and  he  was  spurned  by  men.  He 
delighted  in  the  merry  prattling  and  sunny 
glances  of  children,  and  when  he  appeared  they 
ran  away  in  fear.  If  in  his  manhood  he  had 
preferred  study  and  solitude  to  fellowship  with 
his  kind,  surely  his  penance  had  been  bitter 
enough.  Must  the  punishment  be  everlasting.? 

In  his  despair  he  shunned  the  school  and 
the  haunts  of  men  with  all  his  olden  persistence. 
He  sought  the  solitude  again,  buried  in  moody 
contemplation,  which  no  effort  of  his  could 
throw  aside.  One  morning,  following  a  lonely 
path  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  he  sank 
on  the  ground  and  exclaimed:  “  Give  me  soci¬ 
ety,  O  God,  or  give  me  death  !  I  am  alone 
on  earth  and  my  punishment  is  greater  than  I 
can  bear.  Call  me  to  Thyself  and  to  peace.” 

His  imploring  prayer  was  not  in  vain.  His 
broken  spirit  soon  found  peace.  Upon  the 
wings  of  compassion  God’s  kiss  was  breathed 
upon  him  and  he  slept.  His  life’s  stormy  cur¬ 
rents  were  calmed  at  last. 


RABBINICAL  ROMANCE. 


T  T  might  be  fairly  presumed  that  the  rabbis 
of  the  Talmud  lived  in  too  troublous  times 
and  wrestled  with  too  profound  problems  to 
give  a  thought  to  romance  of  any  kind.  But 
just  as  in  later  centuries  among  their  Arab 
kinsmen,  not  all  the  heat  of  conflict  could 
check  the  strains  of  the  gentler  muse,  which 
diversify  Arabic  literature  with  songs  of  love 
and  beauty,  so  the  rabbis  pause  for  a  while  in 
their  discussions  of  law  and  practice,  and 
lighten  up  the  pages  of  Talmud  and  Midrash 
by  quaint  and  charming  pictures  of  romance, 
which  appear  the  more  beautiful  when  one  re¬ 
flects  on  the  circumstances  of  their  age.  It 
was  not  an  epoch  of  sonnets  and  serenades  by 
any  means.  They  had  neither  troubadours  nor 
poetasters.  Their  school  was  hardly  the  Della 
Cruscan.  Their  tournaments  were  of  an  en¬ 
tirely  different  character;  their  master-songs 

51 


52 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


were  of  another  key.  The  Bible  was  their  one 
epic,  the  prose  and  poetry  of  the  people,  the 
standard  of  life,  the  measure  of  their  aspira- 
ration.  Its  lofty  ideal  of  marriage  was  pre¬ 
served  in  Jewish  jurisprudence;  its  divine  sanc¬ 
tion  gave  a  singular  dignity  and  solemnity  to 
the  institution  among  the  Hebrews.  The  idyls 
of  the  Patriarchs,  the  “  valiant  woman  ”  of  Prov¬ 
erbs,  the  love  scenes  of  the  “Song  of  Songs,” 
proved  the  forerunners  of  rabbinical  romance 
and  invested  it  with  their  own  beauty  and  at¬ 
tractiveness. 

Of  the  pictures  of  rabbinical  romance  which 
have  been  preserved,  few  equal  in  charm  the 
following:  There  appeared  once  before  the 
famous  Simon  ben  Jochai  an  Israelite  and  his 
wife  who  desired  a  divorce,  as  their  union  had 
not  been  blessed  with  children.  The  rabbi 
received  them  kindly,  heard  their  story,  acqui¬ 
esced  in  their  resolve;  but  suggested  in  cordial 
tones  that,  lest  people  might  suspect  them  of 
improper  motives  or  attribute  to  them  some 
disgrace,  the  parting  should  be  of  the  most 
friendly  character.  He  bade  them  return  home, 
provide  a  feast  for  their  friends,  and  on  the 


RABBINICAL  ROMANCE. 


53 


morrow  apply  to  him  for  a  legal  divorce,  which 
he  would  cheerfully  grant.  The  couple  were 
pleased  with  the  rabbi’s  advice  and  kindliness, 
and  hastened  to  prepare  a  bountiful  feast  for 
their  friends.  As  they  were  getting  ready  for 
the  banquet,  the  husband  gently  said  to  his 
wife  :  “  For  many  a  year,  in  sunshine  and  in 
storm,  we  have  lovingly  lived  together.  I  can 
bear  the  highest  testimony  to  thy  faithful  affec¬ 
tion  ;  and  on  my  part  I  have  tried  to  prove 
loyal  to  thee.  If  we  separate  now,  it  is  not  in 
sudden  anger  or  hatred.  That  is  far  from  our 
thoughts.  As  a  pledge,  then,  of  my  warm  at¬ 
tachment,  thou  canst  take  with  thee  whatever 
thou  likest  best  in  the  house,  however  great 
its  value.  It  shall  be  thine  as  an  everlasting 
possession.”  The  wife’s  eyes  gleamed  sus¬ 
piciously,  but  she  said  nothing,  assenting  with 
a  smile  to  her  husband’s  agreement.  The  even¬ 
ing  arrived.  The  feast  began.  It  was  as  boun¬ 
tiful  as  their  means  allowed.  When,  one  by 
one,  the  guests  had  succumbed  to  its  influence, 
and  her  husband,  too,  had  fallen  asleep,  the 
good  woman  had  him  removed  to  her  father’s 
home  and  awaited  hopefully  the  result.  He 


54 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


awoke  at  last  from  his  stupor  and  could  not  un¬ 
derstand  the  situation  until  she  softly  said  : 
“  Dost  thou  not  remember  what  thou  didst  bid 
me  do — to  take  away  what  I  liked  best  in  thy 
house  ?  Well,  it  is  my  husband  that  I  prefer 
to  everything  else.  Naught  but  death  shall 
part  us.”  When  the  two  visited  the  rabbi  again 
and  told  him  that  they  proposed  indefinitely  to 
postpone  the  divorce,  he  blessed  the  pair  in  his 
fervor,  and  they  had  sons  and  daughters  in  due 
course.  This  fond  wife’s  expedient  was  imi¬ 
tated  in  after  centuries  by  the  Giilph  countess, 
whose  castle  was  besieged  by  the  Emperor  Con¬ 
rad,  and  who  besought  as  a  favor  that  the  women 
might  be  allowed  to  pass  out  unmolested  with 
whatever  valuables  they  could  carry.  Next 
day,  when  the  gates  were  opened,  every  wife 
was  seen  carrying  her  husband  and  children, 
and  the  unmarried  women  those  nearest  and 
dearest ! 

Rabbi  Jose  had  the  misfortune  to  be  mar¬ 
ried  to  a  violent  shrew,  and  when  he  found  life 
unbearable  in  her  society,  he  was  reluctantly 
obliged  to  divorce  her,  according  to  the  letter 
of  the  law.  She  married  again,  and  the  years 


RABBINICAL  ROMANCE. 


55 


rolled  on.  Her  second  husband,  after  a  length¬ 
ened  period  of  suffering,  became  blind,  and  they 
were  both  reduced  to  such  poverty  that  she 
was  compelled  to  lead  him  through  the  streets 
begging  for  bread.  But  a  feeling  of  shame  al¬ 
ways  caused  her  to  avoid  the  neighborhood  of 
Rabbi  Jose’s  house.  The  rabbi’s  reputation 
for  benevolence  having  reached  the  blind 
man’s  ears,  he  asked  her  why  she  did  not  lead 
him  thither,  and  when  she  told  him  the  reason, 
he  insisted  upon  her  accompanying  him  to  the 
rabbi’s.  But  the  poor  woman’s  sensitiveness 
was  not  so  easily  overcome,  and  she  flatly  re¬ 
fused  to  go.  Without  any  more  delay,  then, 
he  beat  her  so  severely  that  her  cries  attracted 
a  crowd  of  people,  all  eager  to  witness  the  pro¬ 
ceedings.  Amid  the  confusion.  Rabbi  Jose 
appeared  on  the  scene.  Learning  quickly  the 
state  of  affairs,  he  had  their  wants  attended  to 
at  once,  provided  a  house  for  them,  and  main¬ 
tained  them  out  of  his  own  meagre  income. 
When  his  inquisitive  disciples  asked  him 
whether  she  was  not  the  same  woman  who  had 
previously  made  his  life  so  wretched,  he  re¬ 
plied,  “  Yes,  and  for  that  reason  I  am  bound 


56 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


to  assist  her;  for  is  it  not  written,  ‘  do  not  shut 
thine  eyes  against  thine  own  flesh  ?’  ”  The  rab¬ 
bi  never  forgot  that  she  was  once  his  wife,  and 
for  the  sake  of  his  early  dream  of  bliss,  which 
he  had  never  realized,  his  heart  was  filled  with 
compassion. 

It  was  indeed  a  lofty  ideal  of  womanhood  to 
which  the  rabbis  paid  homage.  The  Hebrew 
term  for  betrothal,  Kiddushiuy  “  sanctification,” 
proves  the  high  import  of  marriage  among 
them.  If  so  famous  a  master  as  Judah  the 
Prince  could  permit  his  disciples  to  accom¬ 
pany  a  bridal  procession  as  it  passed  the 
Academy,  it  is  evident  that  the  rabbis  were  no 
gloomy  ascetics,  as  they  have  often  been  paint¬ 
ed.  One  thinks,  too,  of  the  charming  tale  of 
Rabbi  Meir’s  wife,  of  which  Coleridge  has 
given  an  English  version  that  is  tolerably  well 
known,  and  who,  to  break  gently  the  intelli¬ 
gence  of  his  sons’  death,  compared  them  to 
jewels  entrusted  to  his  care  for  a  few  days,  and 
then  demanded  back  by  their  owner.  “Pray 
not  that  sinners  be  destroyed,”  said  the  same 
wife  on  another  occasion;  “  pray  rather  that 
sin  perish  from  the  earth,  and  that  sinners  re- 


RABBINICAL  ROMANCE. 


57 


pent  and  mend  their  ways.”  The  name  of  this 
gentle  universalist  was  Beruria.  “  Vex  not 
thy  wife,”  said  Rab,  “for  she  is  easily  moved 
to  tears.”  “  The  whole  world  grows  dark  to 
him  who  has  lost  his  first  wife,”  writes  another 
sage.  “  Who  has  no  wife  has  nothing  good, 
no  joy,  no  blessing,  no  peace.”  “Descend  a 
step  to  gain  a  wife.”  “  If  she  be  smaller  than 
thou  art,  bend  a  little  and  whisper  in  her  ear.” 
“With  zeal  and  solicitude  honor  thy  wife,  for  it 
is  the  wife  that  crowns  the  home  with  a  bless¬ 
ing.”  “  Who  is  best  taught  }  ”  a  rabbi  asked. 
“  He  who  has  learned  from  his  mother.”  The 
gentle  ministry  of  women,  to  which  Ernest 
Renan  has  paid  a  tribute  in  his  recognition  of 
the  services  rendered  him  by  his  mother,  his  sis¬ 
ter  and  his  wife,  is  attested  in  the  story  of 
Ishmael  ben  Elisha  and  his  mother.  She 
loved  him  almost  to  adoration,  and  when  he 
attained  eminence,  she  strove  to  brighten  his 
home  life,  and  would  insist  upon  performing 
menial  duties  for  his  comfort  and  pleasure,  even 
washing  his  tired  feet  when  he  returned  from 
the  academy.  Her  unselfish  ministry  at  last 
reached  a  point  where^he  thought  it  unworthy 


58 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


of  a  mother,  and  he  refused  to  submit  to  her 
patient  and  persistent  affection.  The  next  day 
she  appeared  in  the  academy,  and  accused  her 
son  of  violating  the  commandment  of  honoring 
one’s  parents.  Surprised  at  the  charge,  the 
rabbis  asked  her  to  explain  herself,  and  then 
she  related  how  her  son,  whose  learning  she 
idolized,  and  who  was  her  guest  as  well  as 
son,  prevented  her  evincing  the  proper  respect 
to  him.  It  was  decided  that  Rabbi  Ishmael 
should  obey  her  command  as  the  fulfillment  of 
filial  duty. 

The  rabbis  could  appreciate  valor  and  mor¬ 
al  dignity  as  well  as  motherly  tenderness  in 
women.  They  tell  that  when  Alexander  the 
Great,  on  one  of  his  expeditions,  reached  a 
country  governed  by  women,  he  was  about  to 
attack  the  capital.  Just  before  the  signal  to 
advance  was  given,  a  woman  of  lofty  stature 
and  noble  countenance  stepped  bravely  for¬ 
ward  and  asked  Alexander  what  brought  him 
to  her  land.  When  the  king  replied  that  he 
had  come  to  fight  and  conquer,  she  rejoined: 
“  Hast  thou  come  to  battle  with  women  ^  Are 
the  men  all  dead,  that  thou  wishest  to  display 


RABBINICAL  ROMANCE. 


59 


thy  prowess  with  us  ?  Believe  me,  thou  wilt 
find  it  more  difficult  to  subjugate  us  than  thou 
art  inclined  to  fancy.  But  shouldst  thou  conquer, 
will  it  not  be  said  that  thou  conqueredst  weak 
women  ?  Should  we,  however,  prove  victors, 
think,  O  great  Alexander,  of  the  disgrace  to 
thee,  and  of  thy  glory  forever  clouded  !  Leave 
our  country,  then,  and  attack  lands  more  wor¬ 
thy  of  thy  arms.”  She  ceased,  and  Alexander 
was  so  charmed  by  her  courage  and  sense  that 
he  clasped  her  hand  as  a  sign  of  peace  and 
friendship,  and  only  craved  permission  to  in¬ 
scribe  the  following  on  the  gates  of  the  cap¬ 
ital:  “  I,  Alexander  the  madman,  after  having 
subdued  so  many  countries,  have  at  last  come 
to  this  land,  and  learned  wisdom  from  women.” 

The  rabbis  liked  to  apply  similes  which 
Holy  Writ  employs,  and  express  in  a  parable 
the  relation  of  Israel  to  God  as  that  of  bride 
and  bridegroom.  There  lived  once — they  say 
— a  man  who  betrothed  himself  to  a  beautiful 
maiden,  and  then,  after  he  had  gained  the 
pledge  of  her  affection,  he  left  her  and  went 
away,  while  the  maiden  in  her  sorrow  waited 
for  his  return,  but  without  avail.  Her  com- 


6o 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


panions  and  rivals  mocked  her  and  exclaimed: 
“Why  dost  thou  idly  wait?  He  will  never 
return  to  thee,”  Did  the  maiden  abandon  her 
faith  in  the  absent  bridegroom  ?  Just  the  re¬ 
verse.  She  went  into  her  room  and  took  out 
one  by  one  the  letters  in  which  he  had  vowed 
his  fealty.  She  read  them  again  and  again, 
and  was  comforted  amid  her  tears.  And  her 
loving  confidence  was  amply  rewarded.  He 
did  return  at  last,  and  when  he  inquired  why 
she  had  kept  her  faith  so  long  and  what  hope 
sustained  her,  she  showed  him  the  precious 
letters.  Similarly,  when  Israel  was  in  misery 
and  captivity,  she  was  mocked  by  the  nations 
for  her  hopes  of  redemption,  and  taunted  with 
many  a  bitter  sneer.  But,  undisturbed  in  her 
faith,  Israel  went  into  her  schools  and  syna¬ 
gogues  and  took  out  the  letters  and  was  con¬ 
soled  in  her  afflictions.  In  due  time  God,  her 
bridegroom,  would  come  and  redeem  her, 
and  when  He  would  say,  “  What  hope  has 
cheered  thee  ?  how  couldst  thou,  among  all  the 
nations  that  mocked,  retain  thy  loyalty  ?  ”  Is¬ 
rael  would  exultantly  point  to  the  Law  and 
answer,  “  Did  I  not  have  Thy  promise  here  ?  ” 


THE  SHEPHERD’S  WIFE. 


TT  was  the  old,  old  story,  and  yet  as  new 
then  beneath  the  glowing  Palestinian  skies 
as  to-day  in  cottage  or  palace.  He,  the  poor 
unlettered  shepherd,  had  the  effrontery  to  love 
his  master  s  daughter,  who  had  many  wealthy 
suitors,  for  her  wealth  and  beauty  had  proved 
powerful  magnets.  Hired  to  watch  the  rich 
Kalba’s  flocks,  by  the  subtle  influence  of  love 
alone  Akiba  had  won  Rachel’s  affections. 
Their  union,  bitterly  opposed  by  her  father, 
who  saw  all  his  cherished  hopes  and  plans 
thus  defeated,  had  been  finally  consummated. 
Kalba’s  threats  and  imprecations  were  alike  in 
vain;  with  a  woman’s  insight  Rachel  saw  the 
gold  in  her  husband’s  nature,  she  had  faith  in 
his  intellectual  capacity,  and  went  with  him  in 
love’s  glad  confidence.  To  her  he  was  more 
than  a  rustic  clown. 

From  her  father’s  magnificent  dwelling, 


62 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


whence  she  had  been  banished,  to  the  wretched 
hut  which  was  now  to  be  her  home,  no  change 
could  have  been  greater.  Delicately  reared, 
she  was  to  suffer  the  keenest  anxiety.  Her 
every  wish  had  hitherto  been  granted,  her 
every  desire  gratified.  How  different  was  her 
present  outlook  !  But  she  cared  not  if  poverty 
was  to  be  henceforth  her  lot.  Its  sharpest 
stings  lost  their  pain  when  she  pictured  to  her¬ 
self  the  happy  future.  The  world  would  learn 
to  recognize  her  husbands  powers,  and  all 
privation  would  be  forgotten.  What  a  sorcer¬ 
er  is  love — what  a  net  it  weaves  !  Would  it 
prove  a  dream  or  reality  ? 

One  day  they  were  reduced  to  such  extreme 
want  that  they  spent  their  time  in  picking  up 
straw  from  the  barns  and  roadway  to  serve 
them  as  a  bed.  The  prophet  Elijah,  who  is 
ever  ready  to  aid  the  loving  in  heart  and 
strengthen  their  affection,  assumed  a  beggar’s 
attire —  for  he  is  prolific  in  disguises —  and 
knocked  at  Akiba’s  door,  and  it  was  quickly 
opened.  “Good  people, kind  people,” he  cried, 
“  give  a  few  bits  of  straw  to  a  poor  and  un- 
happy  man,  whose  wife  is  in  sore  distress.” 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  WIFE. 


63 


“  Why,  dearest,”  said  Akiba  to  his  wife,  as 
the  stranger  departed  having  not  asked  in 
vain,  “how  happy  we  should  be  !  What  if  our 
means  are  straitened,  there  are  people  poorer 
than  ourselves,  who  do  not  possess  even  a  little 
straw.  Should  we  not  be  grateful  that  we  can 
aid  them }  ” 

“  I  do  not  murmur,”  she  rejoined.  “  I  am 
blessed  in  thy  love,  which  many  waters  cannot 
quench,  nor  rivers  sweep  away.  I  do  not  com¬ 
plain,  for  in  thine  eyes  I  have  fo-und  peace. 
And  yet  I  have  one  wish,”  she  continued,  gaz¬ 
ing  at  him  earnestly;  “  it  is  that  thou  shouldst 
attain  the  full  measure  of  thy  strength.  But  I 
shall  not  be  impatient  or  importunate.  God 
heeds  the  yearning  of  the  seedlet,  and  He  sends 
His  dew  and  sunbeam.  His  rain  and  wind,  and 
it  becomes  a  perfect  flower.  So  shall  He  make 
thee  a  perfect  man  — all  in  His  own  good 
time.” 

Akiba  did  not  and  could  not  forget  his  wife’s 
soulful  words.  They  swiftly  flew  from  her 
heart,  and  made  a  nest  in  his.  Perhaps  he  had 
never  appreciated  education  aright,  nor  cared 
in  reality  to  attain  eminence  in  the  daily  round 


64 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS, 


of  humble  duties  which  he  had  to  discharge. 
But  a  new  desire  sprang  up  in  his  soul.  In  his 
lowly  avocations  each  day  his  wife’s  words  were 
heard — those  mute  reminders  of  duty  to  be 
done,  of  work  to  be  achieved,  of  aspirations  to 
be  realized.  Even  as  King  David,  when  a 
shepherd  lad,  had  listened,  entranced,  to  the 
songs  of  the  night — star,  planet,  and  the  host 
of  creation  uniting  in  grateful  testimony  to  the 
Divine  power  and  mercy — Akiba’s  heart,  too, 
had  often  been  stirred  as  he  watched  nature  in 
its  silence  and  majesty.  What  doubts  and 
questionings  would  wrestle  with  him,  what  am¬ 
bitions  struggle  for  utterance  !  How  his  eyes 
became  clearer,  and  his  mind  more  certain  ! 
How  his  hopes  revived  and  strengthened,  his 
fears  diminished  and  passed  away !  The 
world  was  full  of  mysteries — would  they  ever 
be  explained  }  Scripture  was  to  him  a  closed 
roll — would  it  ever  be  opened 

It  chanced  once,  as  he  was  thus  reflecting, 
that  he  approached  a  wayside  well,  near  which 
he  noticed  a  stone  somewhat  excavated. 
When  he  asked  a  passer-by  who  had  excavated 
the  stone,  he  was  told  that  it  was  caused  by 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  WIPE. 


65 


drops  of  water  continually  falling  upon  it.  If 
so  soft  a  body,”  he  then  said  to  himself,  “  can 
excavate  a  stone,  surely  the  precious  words  of 
the  Law  must  more  readily  soften  my  heart,  and 
purify  my  understanding.  The  die  is  cast.  I 
shall  hesitate  no  more.  I  shall  attempt  to 
realize  my  wife’s  ideal.  I  must  sit  at  the  feet 
of  the  sages,  and  drink  from  the  well  of  their 
knowledge.  I  must  rise  above  my  present 
lowly  calling,  and  heed  the  voice  that  bids  me 
aspire  higher.  I  must  become  a  perfect  man,  a 
holy  teacher  in  Israel,  and  God’s  mercy,  which 
causes  the  flower  to  blossom,  will  aid  me  in 
developing  my  powers  to  their  fullest  bloom.” 

He  quickly  made  known  his  resolve  to  his 
wife,  with  an  exultation  that  was  new  to  him. 
She  bravely  restrained  the  tears,  as  she  thought 
of  his  enforced  absence,  and  the  hard  struggle 
for  existence  which  both  must  wage  for  years 
to  come.  She  sweetened  the  interval  before 
his  departure  by  painting  pictures  of  his  suc¬ 
cess,  if  he  were  true  to  the  voice  within.  The 
period  of  separation  would  pass  as  swiftly  and 
unconsciously  as  a  dream,  and  with  what  joy 
would  she  greet  him  on  his  return,  a  master  in 


66 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Israel !  Then  her  father,  reconciled  at  last, 
would  hasten  to  acknowledge  his  merits,  and 
their  lives  would  be  crowned  with  enduring 
happiness. 

“  Oh,  hasten  !  hasten,  dearest !  ”  were  her 
words  at  parting.  “  Fulfill  thy  vocation.  Be¬ 
come  a  teacher  of  thy  people.  Each  day  shall 
be  a  messenger  of  peace,  bringing  good  tidings 
of  thee.  Dost  thou  not  recall  the  prophet’s  say¬ 
ing:  ‘  Behold,  my  servant  shall  be  wise.  He 
shall  be  exalted,  and  extolled,  and  raised  on 
high  ’  >  ” 

For  mourners  the  years  are  heavily  freight¬ 
ed,  and  for  lovers  they  fly  with  an  arrow’s  speed. 
The  seasons  quickly  changed;  the  years  rapidly 
rolled  by.  Five,  ten,  twelve  times,  in  the  swift 
transformations  of  nature,  had  the  early  roses 
perfumed  the  wayside,  and  the  snows  whitened 
the  hills. 

From  time  to  time  vague  rumors  had  spread 
of  the  famous  scholar,  who  had  gathered  a  host 
of  disciples  around  him,  and  expounded  the 
Law  with  such  marvelous  clearness  and  sim¬ 
plicity  that  all  the  land  wondered.  His  expla¬ 
nations  were  couched  in  terms  that  even  chil- 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  WIFE, 


67 


dren  could  understand.  He  had  developed  a 
new  system  of  study,  which  led  to  surprising 
results.  His  lectures  were  thronged,  and  his 
school  grew  illustrious  from  Rome  to  Jerusalem. 
He  loved  to  preach  in  parables,  and  his  sayings 
were  twice-told  tales,  which  people  liked  to 
hear  and  take  to  heart — so  beloved  and  ad¬ 
mired  was  he. 

And  now  he  was  to  return,  after  the  many 
years  of  absence.  The  shepherd  had  become 
the  master.  The  wife’s  fond  desire  had  been 
fulfilled.  But  did  he  think  of  her  when  he 
reached  his  olden  home  ?  Had  he  forgotten 
his  source  of  inspiration,  and,  buried  in  the  study 
of  the  Law  and  the  sciences,  lost  all  memory  of 
the  faithful  soul  who  had  chosen  him  and  pov¬ 
erty  ?  Perhaps  she  had  not  survived  the  twelve 
years’  unaided  struggle — she,  with  her  delicate 
rearing,  her  youth  and  inexperience,  to  wrestle 
with  hunger  and  want  and  pain  ?  Better  to 
have  died  than  to  have  lived  broken-hearted 
at  a  great  man’s  ingratitude. 

When  Rachel  learned  that  Akiba  was  ex¬ 
pected  at  last,  who  can  describe  her  rapture  ? 
Her  wildest  hopes  had  been  more  than  real- 


08 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


ized;  for  she  never  had  imagined  that  her 
husband  would  attain  such  celebrity.  She 
would  have  been  amply  satisfied  with  modest 
fame,  and  now  a  world-wide  reputation  had 
been  won.  But  perhaps  he  has  forgotten  her 
in  the  changes  of  the  years — that  often  hap¬ 
pens  in  human  history.  Perhaps  he  has  grown 
to  despise  the  wretched  hut  and  its  inmate. 
Will  he  recognize  his  wife  and  accord  her  a 
rightful  place  at  his  side  1 

The  day  had  come.  The  place  of  assembly 
was  crowded.  The  towns  and  villages  in  the 
neighborhood  had  flocked  to  welcome  Akiba. 
Kalba,  proud  and  austere  as  of  old,  was  there. 
He  had  never  been  reconciled  to  his  daughter, 
and  was  careless  of  her  fate.  Surrounded  by 
his  numerous  disciples,  Akiba  received  the 
greetings  of  the  multitude.  But  he  seemed 
dissatisfied.  His  gaze  searched  far  and  near, 
and  his  face  wore  an  anxious  look.  Suddenly, 
at  the  very  edge  of‘  the  crowd,  he  saw  one 
whose  form  had  always  hovered  near,  and 
whose  love  had  ever  urged  him  on.  He  saw  a 
pallid  woman,  in  tattered  garments,  whose  wan 
face  lit  up  with  wondrous  rapture  as  their  eyes 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  WIFE. 


69 


met.  One  swift,  penetrating  glance  told  her 
that  he  was  true,  and  in  the  intoxication  of  the 
moment  the  wretchedness  of  years  of  waiting 
and  uncertainty  was  forgotten  forever. 

“  Rachel !  Rachel  !  ”  he  cried,  breaking  im¬ 
pulsively  from  his  circle  of  disciples,  and  press¬ 
ing  through  the  wondering  throng.  “  Let  her 
come  forward  !  ”  he  shouted  in  loud  and  joyous 
tones.  “  Rachel,  my  wife,  the  shepherd’s  wife, 
to  thee  all  honor  is  due  !  Thou  hast  made  me 
what  I  am  :  I  and  my  pupils,  we  owe  every¬ 
thing  to  thee.” 

“  My  husband  !  ”  she  exclaimed,  as  she  nes¬ 
tled  in  his  embrace,  “now  I  know  the  true 
meaning  of  Solomon’s  words,  ‘  I  am  my  be¬ 
loved’s  and  his  desire  is  toward  me.’  ” 

“  But  thou  art  in  tears,  Rachel.  In  tears  on 
such  a  happy  day !  ”  he  added,  with  the  least 
bit  of  reproach  in  his  voice. 

“Be  not  vexed,”  she  rejoined,  smiling. 
“  These  are  not  tears  of  sadness  at  the  years 
that  have  passed,  but  tears  of  joy  at  thought  of 
the  happy,  happy  years  to  come.” 

But  little  remains  to  be  told.  Kalba  became 
reconciled  to  his  daughter,  and  gave  her  a  con- 


70 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


siderable  portion  of  his  wealth;  while  Akiba 
was  crowned  with  the  threefold  blessing — the 
love  of  a  virtuous  wife,  a  large  share  of  earthly- 
goods,  and  moral  and  intellectual  endowments. 

In  after  years,  during  one  of  their  discussions, 
a  rabbi  asked  of  his  colleagues  :  “Who  is  to  be 
regarded  as  rich  ?  ”  Various  opinions  were 
uttered  as  to  what  constituted  wealth,  until  one 
authority  declared  that  whoever  possesses  a 
hundred  vineyards,  a  hundred  acres,  and  a 
hundred  servants  must  be  accounted  rich. 
“  Not  so  !  ”  exclaimed  Akiba,  as  the  memory  of 
his  early  romance  rose  before  him.  “  He  alone 
deserves  to  be  called  rich  whose  wife  is  sensible 
and  virtuous.”  And  Akiba  ever  treasured  that 
sentiment  until  the  hour  of  his  martyrdom, 
when,  in  defence  of  the  Law  he  loved  so  well, 
he  met  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Romans. 


THE  REPENTANT  RABBI. 


T  T  was  a  proud  moment  for  the  young  rabbi 
when,  his  studies  ended,  he  left  the  acad¬ 
emy  with  all  its  precious  associations,  and  full 
of  ardent  hope,  set  out  for  his  native  place.  He 
had  every  reason  to  feel  the  glow  of  conscious 
pride;  for  he  had  completed,  with  rare  dili¬ 
gence,  the  course  assigned,  and  attained  the 
highest  rank  among  his  companions.  He  was 
familiar  with  the  Law  and  the  testimony  in 
their  multifold  ramifications,  with  the  uninter¬ 
rupted  tradition  of  the  schools  from  their 
earliest  foundations,  with  the  best  learning  of 
his  time.  He  had  flung  himself  into  the  work 
with  a  rare  enthusiasm,  and  his  rapid  progress, 
his  industry  and  acumen,  had  aroused  the  un¬ 
disguised  admiration  of  his  associates  and  the 
warm  praise  of  the  master,  not  always  so  ap¬ 
preciative.  That  a  large  amount  of  self-love 
mingled  with  the  young  man’s  intense  feeling 
of  satisfaction  was  perhaps  natural.  He  was 


72 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


at  an  age  when  humility  hardly  enters  into  the 
composition  of  character.  It  takes  a  varied 
experience  to  develop  the  finer  shades  of  con¬ 
sciousness. 

“  My  pupil — nay,  my  master,”  said  the  head 
of  the  academy  as  the  hour  of  departure  arrived, 
“  for  my  pupils  are  my  masters — what  advice 
can  I  give  thee  at  this  moment  ?  Thou  hast 
abundant  knowledge;  thou  hast  high  ambition; 
thou  hast  gained  our  sincere  esteem.  These 
are  precious  gifts  which  God  has  bestowed 
upon  thee  :  see  that  they  are  not  abused.  Re¬ 
gard  them  as  entrusted  to  thee  for  a  holy  pur¬ 
pose,  not  thine  own  aggrandizement.  Of  all 
men  it  is  the  gifted  teacher  whose  responsi¬ 
bilities  are  the  most  sacred  and  yet  but  idly 
heeded.  Let  me,  then,  exhort  thee  to  observe 
this  rule  in  the  varied  relations  of  life :  Be 
pliant  always  as  the  reed  ;  that  is,  be  kindly  to 
all.  And  never  be  unbending  like  the  cedar ; 
that  is,  unforgiving  to  him  who  insults  thee. 
Let  this  principle  be  the  angel  that  shall  guide 
and  guard  thee  on  the  way.” 

The  farewells  were  gaily  spoken,  and  the 
youth  (for  he  was  but  a  youth,  although  the 


THE  REPENTANT  RABBI, 


73 


dignity  of  rabbi  had  been  conferred  on  him) 
began  his  homeward  journey.  He  could 
scarcely  restrain  his  exultation,  as  he  rode 
along,  at  the  thought  of  his  reception  in  his 
native  town  and  what  honors  would  be  show¬ 
ered  upon  him.  It  seemed  but  yesterday  when 
he  had  left  his  home  and  kindred  to  study  to 
become  a  teacher,  and  now  he  was  returning 
with  all  his  expectations  satisfied,  his  future  se¬ 
cure.  It  was  a  lovely  morn  :  all  nature  was  in 
sympathy  with  his  hopes  and  ideals.  The 
charming  landscape  at  his  feet,  the  tinted  sky 
overhead,  the  fragrance  of  spring  around  him, 
seemed  smiling  harbingers  of  happiness  to 
come.  If  pictures  of  his  parents’  delight  and 
the  pleasure  of  his  friends  arose  at  times  before 
him,  and  recollections  of  childhood  softened 
his  mood,  the  splendid  vision  of  his  own  ad¬ 
vancement  was  ever  present.  It  was  an  in¬ 
toxicating  picture  that  fancy  wove  within  his 
brain.  He  felt  confident  that  his  powers  as 
teacher  and  preacher  would  give  him  the  high¬ 
est  place  in  Israel. 

“Master,  master!  ”  cried  a  voice,  rudely  in¬ 
terrupting  his  revery.  “  Master!  ” 


74 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


He  turned  angrily.  Who  dared  disturb  the 
golden  fabric  of  his  dream,  he,  the  young 
rabbi,  whom  all  delighted  to  honor  ?  He  was 
in  no  mood  for  importunate  suppliants  at  that 
moment. 

It  was  a  poor  dwarf,  crouching  in  the  road, 
unsightly  in  face  as  in  form.  When  he  ob¬ 
served  that  the  rabbi  had  turned  in  his  direc¬ 
tion,  he  repeated  his  salutation,  only  too  glad 
that  he  had  been  noticed.  He  was  used  to 
contempt  and  solitude,  but  what  was  his  sur¬ 
prise  and  pain  when  the  young  rabbi  exclaimed 
in  a  scornful  tone :  “  Tell  me,  have  all  thy 
townspeople  as  hateful  faces  as  is  thine  own  ? 
I  would  like  to  know  before  I  resume  my  jour¬ 
ney.” 

“I  know  not,”  replied  the  dwarf,  cut  to  the 
quick  and  losing  his  self-control;  “  I  know  not. 
Go  to  the  Artist  who  made  me,  and  reproach 
Him  for  His  handiwork.  It  was  not  my  doing.” 

‘‘Pliant  like  the  reed” — his  master’s  parting 
words  now  recurred  to  him  with  tenfold  force 
— kindly  to  all,  unforgiving  to  none.  How 
had  he  remembered  the  monition  ?  How  was 
he  applying  the  last  lesson  he  had  received  ? 


THE  REPENTANT  RABBI. 


75 


What  was  the  vast  range  of  his  learning,  com¬ 
pared  with  the  dignity  of  a  human  soul  that  he 
had  treated  with  such  contempt  ?  Stung  with 
self-reproach,  and  overwhelmed  by  a  sudden 
sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  he  cast  himself 
on  the  ground  by  the  dwarf’s  side,  and  begged 
his  pardon  with  many  an  expression  of  regret. 

“I  was  hasty.  Forgive  my  rudeness!”  he 
exclaimed.  “  I  have  sinned  against  thee,  but 
I  beg  thy  pardon.” 

But  the  bitterness  in  the  dwarfs  soul  could 
not  be  so  easily  appeased.  The  constant  re¬ 
buffs  he  received  intensified  his  natural  sensi¬ 
tiveness,  and  the  rabbi’s  cutting  words  stirred 
his  resentment  to  a  flame.  He  spurned  the 
proffered  hand  and  made  no  other  reply  to  the 
rabbi’s  entreaties  than,  “  Go,  go;  reproach  the 
Artist  for  His  work.  Thou  art  perhaps  a  bet¬ 
ter  mechanic.” 

They  made  a  strange  pair  on  the  highway, 
the  dwarf  sullen  and  gloomy,  followed  by  the 
rabbi  half  praying,  half  expostulating.  But  all 
in  vain.  The  dwarf  would  not  be  comforted, 
and  the  rabbi  had  lost  his  golden  dreams. 
Imagination  had  painted  him  as  a  conqueror 


76 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS, 


returning  in  triumph  to  the  place  of  his  birth; 
reality  found  him  a  suppliant  and  a  penitent. 
The  very  landscape  had  changed;  the  sky  no 
longer  smiled;  the  birds  no  longer  sang.  His 
confidence  had  become  contrition. 

It  was  known  in  his  village  that  he  was  about 
to  return,  and  the  excitement  was  intense. 
The  reverence  for  knowledge  was  so  general 
among  the  people  that  the  religious  teacher 
stood  in  the  highest  esteem,  and  the  post  of 
rabbi  became  an  ideal  in  its  way.  If  cities 
competed  for  the  honor  of  Homer’s  birthplace, 
no  less  local  pride  was  felt  in  every  Judaean 
town  in  being  a  famous  rabbi’s  place  of  nativity. 
That  compensated  for  the  want  of  other  claims 
to  worldly  eminence.  There  was  ample  justi¬ 
fication  for  the  people’s  joy  in  this  instance, 
because  the  young  rabbi’s  reputation  had  pre¬ 
ceded  him,  and  already  they  felt  themselves 
entranced  by  his  eloquence,  and  inspired  by 
his  learning.  The  red-letter  day  arrived. 
They  would  not  wait  for  his  appearance,  but 
thronged  the  dusty  road  to  meet  him  in  ad¬ 
vance.  Scarcely  did  they  discern  him  in  the 
distance  when  they  ran  forward  in  eager 


THE  REPENTANT  RABBI. 


77 


groups  and  blocked  the  way  along  which  he 
had  to  pass,  while  loud  plaudits  filled  the 
air. 

“  Peace  to  thee,  O  master  !  ”  they  exclaimed, 
as  he  drew  near.  “  Peace  to  thee,  O  teacher  ! " 

The  youth  received  their  expressions  of  wel¬ 
come  with  the  deepest  embarrassment.  In  his 
profound  humiliation  and  self-abasement  he 
knew  not  what  to  say.  Strange,  his  silence 
only  increased  the  admiration  of  the  people, 
who  attributed  his  reticence  to  modesty,  and 
redoubled  their  congratulations. 

In  the  meantime  the  dwarf  had  mingled  with 
the  throng,  and  heard  the  praises  lavished  on 
the  young  man.  For  a  while  he  controlled 
himself,  but  at  last  his  feelings  gained  the  mas¬ 
tery,  and  he  fiercely  exclaimed:  “To  whom 
do  ye  extend  such  honor  }  Is  he  the  Messiah, 
forsooth }  ” 

“  What !  Dost  thou  not  know  him  }  ”  came 
the  words  from  many  lips.  “We  honor  the 
scholar,  the  sage — our  rabbi.” 

“Scholar!  rabbi!”  repeated  the  dwarf  with 
ever-increasing  scorn.  “  May  Israel  never 
have  such  teachers  !  ” 


78 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


“Man,  art  thou  crazy?”  they  shouted  in 
their  surprise. 

“  Listen,  people,  and  judge  between  me  and 
your  precious  rabbi;  ”  and  he  told  them  of  the 
insult  which  he  had  received.  It  was  a  pitiful 
recital,  and  heard  in  silence.  It  needed  no 
confirmation.  Upon  the  rabbi’s  face,  usually 
so  bright  and  hopeful,  they  read  anguish  and 
contrition.  He  had  covered  his  countenance 
with  his  hands  in  his  abasement,  but  suddenly 
he  regained  his  self-control. 

“  I  have  erred,  dear  friends,”  he  said,  firmly; 
“  I  have  erred  most  grievously.  It  was  a  cruel, 
a  shameless  act,  to  reproach  this  poor  man, 
and  I  am  deeply  sorry  for  my  foolish  words. 
It  was  without  the  least  shadow  of  excuse;  I 
confess  it  openly.  What  more  can  I  do  ?  I 
have  asked  him  to  forgive  me,  but  he  is  as  un¬ 
yielding  as  the  cedar.  My  hasty  speech  has 
changed  my  joy  into  sorrow,  and  filled  my 
soul  with  unutterable  grief.” 

“Pardon  him!”  the  people  cried,  crowding 
around  the  dwarf.  “  Pardon  him  !  Dost  thou 
not  see  his  penitence  ?  Pardon  him  for  his 
wisdom’s  sake.” 


THE  REPENTANT  RABBI. 


79 


“  I  shall  pardon  him,”  was  the  reply,  after  a 
short  pause,  “for  your  sakes,  and  that  he  may 
never  commit  again  so  grievous  a  sin.” 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath.  The  syna¬ 
gogue  was  filled  with  an  attentive  assembly 
from  near  and  far,  for  was  not  the  young  rabbi 
to  preach  his  first  sermon  ?  It  was  a  critical 
moment  for  the  preacher,  but  he  did  not  fear. 
He  had  learned  more  from  one  day’s  experi¬ 
ence  than  from  a  year  of  study  and  reflection; 
for  humility  had  entered  his  heart,  and  the 
warm  gulf-stream  of  compassion  was  develop¬ 
ing  his  nature  to  a  richer  maturity.  He  felt 
stronger,  more  resolute,  more  hopeful  in  the 
growing  sense  of  dependence  on  One  whose 
mercies  were  unending,  and  whose  gifts  were 
boundless.  The  world  had  broadened  uncon¬ 
sciously — the  school  was  receding  from  view. 
In  the  stir  of  new  duties  and  the  pressure  of 
new  conditions,  how  unreal  and  fantastic  ap¬ 
peared  life  at  the  academy,  and  the  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  texts  !  He  was  to  study  men,  not  books, 
and  what  should  be  the  guide  ?  While  his 
mind  was  wrestling  with  these  thoughts,  he 
rose  to  preach,  and  a  solemn  silence  reigned 


8o 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


as  he  announced  his  text:  “Be  always  pliant 
as  a  reed,  and  be  never  unbending  like  the 
cedar.”  But  in  the  rabbi’s  heart,  inspired  by 
new  emotions  and  purified  by  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  human  weakness,  there  was  no  silence; 
the  joy-bells  of  gratitude  were  pealing  an  an¬ 
them  to  God. 


THE  INHERITANCE. 


HE  heart  of  Hyrcanus  was  full  of  joyful 


emotions.  His  pride  and  exultation 
knew  no  bounds.  His  fields  were  broad,  his 
granaries  full,  his  increasing  flocks  and  herds 
grazed  contentedly  on  the  hillside,  and  a  hun¬ 
dred  youths  and  maidens  hastened  to  do  his 
bidding,  and  added  to  his  rapidly  growing 
wealth.  But  he  was  happiest  when  he  noticed 
his  sons  hard  at  work  at  the  plow  or  with 
the  flail,,  their  faces  alt  aglow  with  their  daily 
toil,  and  he  would  pass  along  the  line  with 
many  an  encouraging  word. 

“  How  happy  the  farmer’s  life !  ”  was  his  fre¬ 
quent  remark.  “  He  is  his  own  master;  sun¬ 
light,  dew,  rain,  heat  are  his  eager  servants. 
God,  with  lavish  hand,  places  fruit  and  flower 
at  his  feet  and  scatters  on  every  side  the  re¬ 
wards  of  his  labor.  My  sons  shall  be  farmers, 
too — not  so,  my  lads  }  Farmers,  strong,  ruddy. 


8i 


82 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


alert,  like  your  sire,  to  continue  his  name  to 
all  generations.  Let  people  talk  about  the 
joys  of  city  life  and  other  careers  and  occupa¬ 
tions;  we  know  how  to  prize  our  own  calling 
and  appreciate  its  blessings.” 

It  happened  once  that,  as  Hyrcanus  visited 
his  fields,  he  observed  that  one  of  his  sons, 
Elieser,  seemed  moody  and  dejected.  When 
he  was  asked  the  reason  of  his  discontent,  he 
responded  by  a  flood  of  tears. 

“What  ails  the  boy  ”  said  the  father  to 
himself.  “  He  does  not  look  ill.  Perhaps  it 
is  his  pride,  for  he  is  the  proudest  of  the  lot. 
Does  he  think  that  his  present  employment  is 
too  menial  'i  That  fault,  if  it  be  a  fault,  is 
easily  remedied.  I  shall  have  him  undertake 
a  lighter  task  and  the  smiles  will  come  back  to 
his  countenace.” 

In  vain.  The  son’s  sadness  steadily  in¬ 
creased,  and  baffled  the  father’s  solicitude. 
The  youth  would  often  rest  from  his  toil  and 
turn  his  gaze  toward  the  east.  Sighs  escaped 
him,  and  all  the  symptoms  of  discontent.  He 
would  perform  each  day’s  task,  but  there  was 
no  heart  in  the  work,  and  when  the  allotted 


THE  INHERITANCE. 


83 


labor  was  done,  he  courted  solitude  as  if  it 
had  a  balm  for  his  anxious  thoughts.  He 
loved  to  follow  the  bird  in  its  flight  until  it  was 
lost  to  view  in  cloudless  space.  He  would 
pluck  to  pieces  many  a  flower,  as  though  to 
gain  the  secret  of  their  fragrance.  In  the 
peace  of  twilight  he  would  leave  his  home, 
mount  the  neighboring  hill,  and  commune 
with  the  stars  as  if  they  could  answer  his  ques¬ 
tionings  or  soothe  his  sorrow. 

Now  Hyrcanus  had  continued  to  observe  his 
son’s  disquietude,  and  sought  to  discover  the 
secret,  but  without  success.  One  evening, 
meeting  Elieser  in  tears,  he  sajd  :  “  Come,  my 
son.  Tell  me  thy  grief.  What  disturbs  thee  } 
Why  is  thy  brow  so  sad,  and  why  has  thy 
heart,  once  so  merry,  lost  its  cheer  }  Come, 
tell  me.  Be  frank,  and  conceal  nothing.” 

“  Oh,  father,  father  !  ”  the  youth  exclaimed. 
“  I  will  be  frank  with  thee  and  conceal  noth¬ 
ing.  I  hate  the  farm  and  the  fields  !  I  yearn 
for  something  higher  and  nobler.  I  cannot 
endure  much  longer  this  kind  of  life.  It  is 
worse  than  a  stifling  prison  !  ” 

“  Well,  my  son,  ”  replied  the  father,  sadly, 


84 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


“thou  hast  been  frank,  and  I  confess  thy 
words  have  disappointed  me  not  a  little.  My 
thoughts  are  naturally  wrapped  up  in  my  farm, 
and  I  have  always  longed  to  have  my  sons  fol¬ 
low  in  my  path  and  succeed  as  I  have  done. 
But  I  would  not  be  harsh  or  unkind  to  thee. 
I  will  change  thy  occupation,  if  it  be  thy  de¬ 
sire.  What  shall  it  be,  then  A  saddler,  a 
weaver,  a  carpenter,  a  blacksmith  ?  ” 

“A  saddler,  a  weaver,  a  carpenter,  and  the 
rest  !  ”  rejoined  the  youth  with  flashing  eyes. 
“  Why  speak  of  them  ?  It  is  only  one  am¬ 
bition  that  possesses  me.  I  would  be  a 
scholar,  father;  I  would  study  the  holy  Law. 
I  would  devote  my  entire  life  to  learning.” 

“  So  that  is  the  secret  which  I  have  vainly 
sought  to  discover  ?  ”  the  father  answered. 
“Thou  wouldst  be  an  idle  scholar!  At  thy 
age,  too  !  Be  satisfied  with  the  farm,  Elieser. 
Curb  thy  straying  fancy  and  settle  down  to 
the  farmer’s  life.  Let  thy  sons  be  scholars, 
but  choose  for  thyself  a  more  sensible  fate.” 

A  few  days  passed.  The  cloud  of  sorrow 
pressed  heavier  and  heavier  on  Elieser.  He 
grew  more  and  more  sullen.  He  refused  his 


THE  INHERITANCE, 


85 


accustomed  food.  Sleep  was  denied  him. 
But  ever  stronger  became  the  yearning  to 
study  the  divine  Law. 

“  If  I  could  only  learn  of  the  Maker  of  this 
boundless  universe  !  ”  he  exclaimed  to  himself 
as  he  took  his  solitary  walk.  “  The  distant 
star  mocks  me.  The  flower  at  my  feet  taunts 
me  with  my  ignorance.  The  birds  that  troop 
past  me  have  more  knowledge  than  I.  Must 
I  endure  this  self-reproach  forever  }  ” 

“  Why  weepest  thou  V  a  Voice  was  heard 
close  beside  him.  “  What  is  thy  sorrow } 
Hast  thou  an  unattained  desire  }  Dost  thou 
wish  to  study  the  Law  t  ” 

“  Yes,  yes  !  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul ! 
Oh,  Master,  Master,  satisfy  me !  Art  thou 
not  near  to  all  who  call  upon  Thee  in  truth, 
and  dost  Thou  not  give  to  the  young  birds 
that  for  which  they  cry  }  ” 

“  If  thou  truly  lovest  knowledge,”  spoke  the 
Voice,  in  tones  that  thrilled  the  young  man’s 
soul,  “and  wouldst  devote  thy  whole  life  to 
learning,  submitting  to  the  yoke  which  shall 
be  transformed  into  a  fadeless  crown,  fly  to 
Jerusalem.  There  is  the  school  of  Rabbi 


86 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Johanan  ben  Sakkai.  Enter  its  doors  —  the 
portals  stand  open — and  be  wise.” 

Elieser  hesitated  no  longer.  The  oppor¬ 
tunity  had  come.  In  the  impulsiveness  of 
youth,  without  bidding  his  father  and  brothers 
farewell,  he  fled  to  Jerusalem,  the  city  of  his 
hopes  and  visions,  and,  entering  Ben  Sakkai’s 
far-famed  school,  stood  like  a  statue  for  a  mo¬ 
ment,  and  then  wept  aloud. 

“Good  youth,”  said  the  rabbi,  in  a  kindly 
tone,  “  why  hast  thou  given  way  to  thy  emo¬ 
tions  ?  At  thy  age  it  is  not  usual  to  give  way 
to  tears.” 

“  Oh,  rabbi,”  Elieser  answered,  “  I  am 
weeping  because  of  my  ignorance,  and  I  have 
such  a  burning  desire  to  study  that  I  could  not 
but  come  to  Jerusalem.” 

“  But  thou  hast  surely  learnt  something, 
hast  thou  not  ?  ”  the  rabbi  inquired. 

“Nothing,  nothing!”  cried  the  youth  des¬ 
pairingly.  “  Oh,  teach  me,  master  I  Without 
knowledge  I  cannot  live.” 

Ben  Sakkai  strove  to  reassure  the  trembling 
youth.  Without  asking  of  his  home  and  kin¬ 
dred,  he  received  Elieser  as  his  own  son,  and 


THE  INHERITANCE. 


87 


bade  him  grieve  no  more.  “  Thou  shalt  be 
my  pupil.  I  recognize  thy  honest  heart.  I 
have  full  confidence  in  thy  ability.  Thou  shalt 
gain  knowledge  if  thou  wilt  but  persevere,  and 
become  a  light  to  thy  people.” 

The  rabbi’s  judgment  was  soon  confirmed. 
The  youth  made  astounding  progress  that 
aroused  the  admiration  of  his  comrades  and 
teachers.  Ben  Sakkai  was  amazed  at  the 
sagacity,  the  reasoning  skill,  the  intellectual 
grasp  of  his  pupil,  whose  learning  grew  until 
he  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  pride  of  the 
academy  and  its  star  of  greatest  promise.  And 
then  Elieser  told  Ben  Sakkai  his  name  and 
lineage. 

What  of  Hyrcanus  during  these  years  ?  Did 
he  grieve  for  his  missing  son.^  Did  he  seek 
to  discover  the  secret  of  his  absence  ?  Did 
he  regard  him  as  hopeless  and  abandon  all 
search  ?  His  father  heart  might  have  put 
him  on  the  right  track  had  not  Elieser’s  broth¬ 
ers  resorted  to  every  means  to  poison  their 
parent’s  mind.  They  could  not  sufficiently 
condemn  their  brother’s  deed  and  ingratitude. 


88 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


They  dwelt  upon  the  disgrace  to  the  family 
which  he  had  occasioned,  and  to  prevent  any 
reconciliation,  should  he  return,  they  urged 
their  father,  again  and  again,  to  disinherit  him. 
As  he  despised  the  farm  and  its  occupations, 
he  should  have  no  share  in  the  estate. 

Resolved,  at  last,  to  disinherit  Elieser,  the 
father  set  out  for  Jerusalem,  to  complete  the 
act  in  due  legal  form.  He  soon  reached  the 
Holy  City,  encircled  by  a  chaplet  of  hills,  and 
moved  along  its  crowded  streets  with  an  air  of 
wonder.  All  nations  seemed  to  be  there. 
Greece,  Rome,  and  the  isles  of  the  sea  sent 
their  representatives.  How  different  from  his 
fields  and  hills  were  the  busy  thoroughfares  ! 
How  insignificant  appeared  his  houses  and 
lands,  compared  to  the  stately  edifices  that 
lined  the  well-paved  roads,  the  lofty  towers 
that  shone  in  the  sunlight,  the  colossal  gate¬ 
ways,  the  palatial  dwellings  !  How  tame  and 
unsatisfying  was  country  life  after  all ! 

“Come,  Hyrcanus  ! ”  exclaimed  one  of  his 
friends,  “  Let  us  visit  Ben  Sakkai  to-day.  He 
is  our  most  famous  sage,  and  all  throng  to  hear 
him." 


THE  INHERITANCE. 


89 


It  was  a  gala-day  in  Ben  Sakkai’s  house. 
He  had  invited  to  dinner  a  large  number  of  the 
most  prominent  people  in  Jerusalem,  and  Hyr- 
canus,  belonging  to  a  family  of  wealth  and  in¬ 
fluence,  was  placed  next  to  Elieser.  But  the 
father  did  not  recognize  his  son;  he  never 
thought  that  Elieser  associated  in  such  high 
circles,  and  then  the  years  had  changed  the 
youth  completely.  Study,  too,  had  transformed 
the  country  lad,  and  added  a  refining  and  ma¬ 
turing  influence  of  its  own. 

The  guests  feasted  merrily,  and  had  almost 
ended  their  repast,  when  Ben  Sakkai,  turning 
to  Elieser,  exclaimed,  “  My  son,  it  is  time  for 
thee  to  reveal  thy  wisdom.  Rise,  and  speak 
of  the  holy  Law.” 

“  Nay,  master,”  Elieser  replied,  blushing 
slightly;  “  the  cisterns  can  only  pour  out  the 
water  which  they  have  received.  What  can  I 
say  that  is  not  already  known  to  thee  ?  ” 

“My  son,”  Ben  Sakkai  rejoined,  “the  foun¬ 
tain  gushes  forth  an  ever-living  stream.  Rise 
and  speak  of  the  Law.” 

But  Elieser  was  still  reluctant  to  address  the 
assemblage,  when  Ben  Sakkai,  fancying  that 


90 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


his  presence  embarrassed  his  pupil,  left  the 
hall. 

Then  Elieser  began  a  dissertation  on  the 
Law  and  holy  things,  and  the  depth  and  beauty 
of  creation,  of  life  and  its  wonders,  of  death 
and  its  mysteries,  of  the  world  in  its  grandeur, 
and  the  human  soul.  He  spoke,  and  his  eyes 
shone  with  a  divine  radiance,  while  his  voice 
grew  wondrously  eloquent.  The  people  lis¬ 
tened,  awe-inspired.  Unable  to  restrain  him¬ 
self,  Ben  Sakkai  rushed  into  the  assemblage, 
and  full  of  admiration  kissed  him  on  the  fore¬ 
head,  exclaiming,  “  Oh,  blessed  son  of  Hyr- 
canus  !  Happy  Israel  to  have  such  a  teacher  !  ” 

The  assemblage  broke  into  loud  applause — 
but  scarcely  had  its  echo  died  away  when  Hyr- 
canus  exclaimed  in  an  agitated  voice,  “  Of 
whom  dost  thou  speak  }  Tell  me  !  Relieve 
my  suspense  !  ” 

“Of  whom  I  speak  ”  Ben  Sakkai,  replied. 
“  Why,  I  speak  of  thy  son.  I  speak  of  Elieser, 
who  is  standing  at  thy  side.” 

“  My  son  !  my  son  !  ”  and  Hyrcanus  turned 
to  Elieser.  “  Thou  art  indeed  my  missing 
son.”  And  again  and  again  he  clasped  the 


THE  INHERITANCE. 


91 


young  man  to  his  breast,  while  the  people 
wondered.  “  Happy,  thrice  happy  am  I  to 
possess  such  a  son  !  I  came  to  Jerusalem  with 
one  resolve — shall  be  frank  to  avow  it — to 
disinherit  thee.  But  now  I  shall  disinherit  thy 
brethren  who  have  traduced  thee.  Thou  shalt 
be  sole  heir  of  all  my  wealth — that  shall  be 
thy  recompense,  and  the  proof  of  my  affection.” 

“  Nay,  father,”  Elieser  answered,  while  his 
voice  grew  gentler  as  he  spoke;  “Nay,  father, 
let  each  brother  have  his  portion.  I  bear 
them  no  ill-will.  If  I  desired  fields,  I  could 
pray  to  God  for  them,  for  He  is  Lord  of  the 
earth.  If  I  desired  gold  I  could  entreat  God 
for  it.  Is  He  not  the  Lord  of  all  the  wealth 
that  is  ?  But  I  hunger  only  for  the  holy  Law: 
this  satisfies  me.” 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


HE  form  of  Elijah  the  prophet  rises  out  of 


the  Jewish  past  with  all  the  ruggedness 
and  grandeur  of  Mount  Carmel,  with  which  his 
name  and  character  are  indissolubly  associated. 
Few  heroes  of  the  Bible  appeal  so  irresistibly 
to  the  Jewish  popular  imagination,  and  are 
stamped  with  such  peculiar  genius.  The  mys¬ 
tery  which  surrounds  his  birth,  education,  and 
family,  the  suddenness  with  which  Scripture 
introduces  him,  the  intense  enthusiasm  that 
marked  the  beginning  of  his  missionary  work, 
the  dangers  to  which  he  was  exposed,  the  mi¬ 
raculous  events  in  which  he  figures,  his  un¬ 
daunted  courage  and  fiery  zeal,  would  be  suf¬ 
ficient  to  crown  him  with  a  certain  halo  of 
romance.  But  when,  as  a  fit  complement  to 
his  earthly  career,  one  considers  the  circum- 


92 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


93 


stances  connected  with  his  disappearance  from 
earth,  it  is  natural  that  he  should  be  regarded 
as  one  of  Scripture’s  most  picturesque  person¬ 
ages — ^just  the  character  to  be  seized  upon  in 
later  centuries  by  legend  and  parable,  and  to 
survive  for  ages  in  national  folk-lore. 

One  caution  is  to  be  exercised,  however,  in 
our  judgment  of  the  post-Biblical  legends  in 
which  Elijah  assumes  so  prominent  a  role.  As 
is  true  of  rabbinical  legends  respecting  other 
Biblical  worthies  and  the  rabbis  of  the  Talmud 
themselves,  so  in  the  case  of  Elijah,  it  is  not  to 
be  asserted  that  the  people  and  their  teachers 
believed  in  every  hyperbolic  allusion  to  the 
prophet.  We  distort  rather  than  interpret  the 
Talmud,  if  we  fail  to  make  due  allowance  for 
the  fountain-play  of  Oriental  metaphor.  In  its 
stories  and  parables,  its  ever -winding  stream 
of  hagadah^  we  see  reproduced  the  arabesque 
in  art — “  a  magic  complexity  of  ornament,” 
where  “  the  restlessly  roving  fancy  and  the 
speculative  understanding  find  their  pride  and 
satisfaction,”  as  Liibke  states  it.  That  genius 
for  rationalism  and  keen  critical  inquiry  which, 
despite  rabbinical  reverence  for  tradition,  is  at 


94 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


the  basis  of  the  Talmud,*  makes  me  reluctant 
to  maintain  that  the  historical  character  of  the 
rabbinical  legends  about  Elijah  was  ever  an 
article  of  faith.  They  are  so  varied,  and  pre¬ 
sent  the  prophet  in  such  quick  and  sudden 
transformation  scenes,  that  one  is  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  here  we  have  to  deal  with  texts, 
not  flesh  and  blood.  It  is  the  Elijah  of  hom¬ 
ilies  and  exegesis,  weird  and  shadowy,  em¬ 
bodying  the  mystic,  philosophic  ideas  of  the 
schools — a  theological  finger-post,  so  to  speak 
— which  meets  one  in  the  luxuriant  gardens  of 
rabbinical  fancy.  So  deeply  did  these  legends 
impress  the  susceptible  popular  mind,  being 
largely  associated  with  themes  of  theosophic 
and  supernatural  grandeur,  personal  and  na¬ 
tional  resurrection,  and  the  realms  of  the  world 
to  come,  that  they  acquired  a  certain  sanctity 
and  permanence  of  their  own  which  defied 
analysis  and  criticism.  They  are  undoubtedly 
on  a  higher  grade  than  the  Solomonic  legends. 

*And  is,  in  fact,  a  trait  of  the  Jew  in  every  century,  to 
whom  the  pithy  lines  in  “  Faust”  are  applicable: 

“  Zwei  Seelen  wohnen,  ach!  in  meiner  Brust, 

Die  eine  will  sich  von  der  andern  trennen.’' 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


95 


It  is  more  than  burlesque  and  pantomime. 
Here  is  no  stage-fire;  here  no  gaudy  transfor¬ 
mation  scenes,  with  the  resources  of  the  jug¬ 
gler’s  art  and  witchery.  We  are  brought  face 
to  face  with  solemn  mysteries  of  life  and  death 
and  immortality — the  problems  that  ever  exer¬ 
cise  so  profound  an  influence  and  fascination. 

The  rabbis  trace  a  resemblance  between 
Moses  and  Elijah.  The  one  ascended  Mount 
Sinai,  the  other  Mount  Carmel.  Both  were 
prophets.  Both  condemned  idolatry.  There 
was  the  same  mystery  about  their  passing 
away  ;  both  disappeared,  rather  than  died. 
Still  another  similarity  was  noticed :  no  one 
knows  their  sepulchre.  The  act  of  Elijah  in 
offering  sacrifices  on  Mount  Carmel  against 
Moses’  express  command  to  offer  only  in  Jeru¬ 
salem,  is  explained  as  justifiable  on  the  ground 
of  its  being  a  work  of  necessity.  The  rabbis 
discern  in  Phinehas  who  slew  Zimri  a  type  of 
Elijah;  in  both  cases  the  same  zeal  and  cour¬ 
age  can  be  observed.  Elijah’s  twofold  invoca¬ 
tion  (i  Kings  xviii.  37),  “  Hear  me  !  Hear 
me  !”  was  to  show  that  he  employed  no  sor¬ 
cery.  Rabbinical  skepticism,  which  denied 


96  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

the  historical  character  of  Job  and  saw  in  the 
book  that  bears  his  name  only  “a  parable,” 
doubted,  as  well,  the  ascension  of  Moses  and 
Elijah.  All  opinions  are  recorded  in  the  Tal¬ 
mud  :  Jewish  thought  was  never  stagnant  nor 
one-sided. 

In  the  rabbinical  legends,  Elijah  is  a  man  of 
peace — a  gentle  messenger,  who  preaches  a 
religion  of  love  and  humanity.  With  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  modern  saint,  he  comforts  in 
affliction,  he  warns  of  danger,  he  exhorts  to 
repentance.  But  none  the  less  emphatically 
does  he  condemn  sin  and  show  how  sin  may 
be  atoned.  He  is  quick  to  give  counsel;  he 
promotes  peace  between  man  and  wife;  he  acts 
as  referee  in  legal  cases;  he  pronounces  judg¬ 
ment;  doubtful  matters  await  his  decision,  and 
he  reveals  secrets.  As  a  further  prerogative, 
he  leads  into  Paradise.  To  protect  the  af¬ 
flicted,  too,  is  his  special  duty.  Nor  does  he 
shirk  any  disguise  or  labor  to  achieve  his  ob¬ 
ject,  but  will  appear  now  as  a  simple  man,  and 
now  in  the  attire  of  a  Roman  ofiflcer;  here  as  a 
wandering  Arab,  and  here  mounted  on  a  horse. 
At  some  of  the  academies  he  would  attend  as 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


97 


an  ordinary  student  and  modestly  join  in  the 
discussions.  He  takes  Rabbi  Joshua  ben  Levi 
in  hand  —  a  famous  character  of  his  day — and 
shows  him  his  future  abode  in  Paradise.  Not 
satisfied  with  such  a  mark  of  favor,  after  that 
rabbi’s  death  he  introduces  him  to  his  col¬ 
leagues  in  the  better  world. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Elijah’s  prominence 
is  largely  due  to  the  character  assigned  him 
by  tradition  as  forerunner  of  the  Messiah.  His 
reappearance  on  earth,,  foretold  by  Malachi,  is 
associated  with  the  Messianic  era.  The  Tar- 
gum  Jonathan  mentions  this  privilege  of  Eli¬ 
jah’s,  “  the  great  priest  who  is  to  be  sent  at  the 
end  of  the  captivity  ”  (Targ.  Jon.  to  Ex.  xl.  lo). 
The  Mishna  asserts  the  same  (in  Eduyoth  viii); 
and  so  popular  became  the  belief,  that  in  the 
Gospel  narrative  (Mark  vii.,  viii.,  and  elsewhere), 
we  find  Jesus  mistaken  for  Elijah  as  the  fore¬ 
runner  of  the  Messiah. 

A  good  deal  of  activity  is  marked  out  for 
Elijah.  On  his  reappearance  upon  earth,  his 
first  work  will  be  to  summon  Israel,  and  col¬ 
lect  the  scattered  tribes,  with  Messiah,  son  of 
Joseph,  at  their  head,  leading  them  to  Pales- 


98 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


tine,  to  fight  against  ^milus,  the  pseudo-Mes¬ 
siah.  Then  he  will  arouse  the  dead,  bring 
Messiah,  the  son  of  David,  and  restore  to  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem  the  Shekinah  and  the  Ark, 
which  had  been  committed  to  his  (Elijah’s) 
care  by  Jeremiah  at  its  destruction.  It  can 
readily  be  seen  to  what  extravagant  views 
these  legends  may  give  rise  in  the  literature  of 
eschatology.  Among  the  Jews  Elijah  is  not 
canonized:  there  are  no  saints  in  the  Jewish 
calendar.  In  the  Latin  and  Greek  churches 
he  received  such  honors  and  became  the 
founder  of  the  Carmelites.  In  Russian  popu¬ 
lar  proverbs  he  directs  the  storms,  the  sound 
of  the  thunder  being  caused  by  the  rumble  of 
his  fiery  chariot  and  the  lightning  by  its  blaze. 
Among  the  Kabbalists  Elijah’s  name  is  re¬ 
peated  with  special  emphasis  on  the  exit  of  the 
Sabbath ;  at  that  time  he  is  supposed  to  be 
seated  under  the  tree  of  life  and  unerringly 
records  in  writing  the  merits  of  those  who 
keep  the  Sabbath  holy.  Curious  is  the  sur¬ 
vival  of  the  custom,  at  the  Passover  repast,  of 
having  an  extra  goblet  of  wine  for  Elijah.  I 
am  tempted  to  explain  this  as  a  proof  and 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


99 


illustration  of  Hebrew  hospitality.  All  Israel¬ 
ites,  masters  and  servants,  men,  women  and 
children,  are  alike  commanded  to  be  present 
at  the  Paschal  meal :  on  that  evening  all  are 
freemen ;  the  barriers  of  rank,  class  and  cir¬ 
cumstance  are  thrown  aside.  What  more  nat¬ 
ural  than  that  an  extra  cup  of  wine  should 
be  provided  for  the  traveler  or  stranger  guest 
who  may  by  chance  arrive  on  the  festival  eve  ? 
Such  a  custom  is  quite  common  among  rabbis 
to-day,  who  are  glad  to  invite  a  poor  brother 
to  their  Sabbath  meal  in  obedience  to  the  Mo¬ 
saic  law,  “  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself.” 

Once  the  prophet  met  a  man  who  mocked  at 
holy  things.  “  My  son,”  said  the  sage  quietly, 
“  how  wilt  thou  justify  thyself  before  thy  Father 
in  heaven,  when  He  summons  thee  to  swift 
and  impartial  judgment.?”  “Oh,  I  know  how 
to  answer,”  the  skeptic  rejoined,  unabashed. 
“  Why,  I  shall  tell  God  that  He  ought  to  have 
given  me  knowledge  and  understanding;  but 
as  He  did  not.  He  is  to  blame,  not  I.”  “  What 
is  thy  business.?”  Elijah  then  asked,  deeply 
moved.  “  I  am  a  fisherman,”  was  the  curt  re- 


lOO 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


ply.  Thou  art  a  fisherman,”  said  Elijah,  “and 
hast  understanding  enough  to  arrange  nets,  to 
hurl  them  into  the  water,  to  watch  for  fish  at 
the  proper  time  !  Who  gave  thee  understand¬ 
ing  for  this.^”  “Understanding  for  all  that 
sort  of  thing!”  exclaimed  the  man  coolly, 
“why,  that  is  nothing.  Every  common  fisher¬ 
man  has  it.”  “Nothing!”  Elijah  answered 
with  emphasis.  “  I^.  is  indeed  something. 
Dost  thou  think  much  understanding  is  neces¬ 
sary  to  carry  out  the  law?  ‘The  law,’  says 
Moses,  ‘is  near  to  thee;  it  is  Cn  thy  mouth,  and 
in  thy  heart,  and  thou  canst  do  it-  ”  Touched 
to  the  quick  by  Elijah’s  reproof,  and  con¬ 
vinced,  as  well,  that  the  prophet  had  both 
logic  and  reason  on  his  side,  the  fisherman 
wept  tears  of  repentance  and  abandoned  his 
skepticism. 

Once  in  the  busy  market-place  Elijah  ap¬ 
peared  to  Rabbi  Beroka.  Curious  to  pry  into 
the  secrets  of  life  eternal,  the  rabbi  asked  the 
prophet:  “  Who  among  all  this  crowd  will  en¬ 
joy  future  salvation  ?  ”  “  That  man  yonder  in 

black  sandals,  like  a  heathen,  and  without 
fringes  on  his  garments.”  The  rabbi  was  not 


ELIJAH  IN  THE  LEGENDS. 


lOI 


a  little  astounded  that  one  who  violated  the 
statutes  of  the  law  should  have  a  portion  in  the 
world  to  come,  and,  approaching  the  man  with¬ 
out  delay,  asked  him  what  was  his  business. 
“  I  am  a  jailer,”  said  he,  “  and  take  special  care 
to  maintain  morality  in  the  prison.”  “  But 
why  do  you  neglect  the  fringes  }  ”  “  That  is 

very  easily  explained,”  he  answered.  “  On  ac¬ 
count  of  this  very  neglect  I  am  regarded  as  a 
heathen,  and  become  thus  acquainted  with  the 
mischievous  purposes  of  enemies  of  the  Jews, 
and  inform  the  Jewish  leaders  of  any  threaten¬ 
ing  evil.”  But  the  rabbi’s  surprise  for  the  day 
had  not  ended.  “  See  those  two  jesters  there,” 
said  Elijah,  pointing  unobserved  to  two  figures 
in  the  crowd.  “  They,  too,  shall  be  saved.” 
Rabbi  Beroka  advanced  quickly  in  their  direc¬ 
tion,  and  conversed  with  them  for  a  few  mo¬ 
ments.  He  found  that  they  were  men  of  a  cheer¬ 
ful,  hearty  spirit,  who  strove  to  comfort  the 
mourner  and  the  sufferer,  and  to  banish  their 
pain,  while  they  had  often  restored  harmony 
among  people,  and  instilled  gentle  peace. 
“  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers,”  so  reads  the 
golden  sentence  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 


102 


STOI^IES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


“  for  they  shall  be  called  the  sons  of  God.” 
“Love  peace,  and  pursue  peace,”  said  Hillel; 
“  love  mankind,  and  bring  them  near  to  the 
Law.” 


WHEN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING. 


T  '^HE  historical  data  respecting  Solomon 

^  are  rather  scanty,  compared  with  the 
role  he  occupies  as  a  national  hero.  Eleven 
chapters  in  I  Kings  (i.-xi.),  and  nine  in  2  Chron¬ 
icles  (i.-ix.)  tell  the  story  of  his  life;  and  these 
are  possibly  extracts  from  works  no  longer  ex¬ 
tant.  To  compensate,  however,  for  the  meagre¬ 
ness  of  historical  details,  legend  has  made  him 
one  of  its  favorites,  and  crowned  him  with  at¬ 
tributes  and  achievements  which  keep  his 
memory  green,  although  nearly  three  thou¬ 
sand  years  have  elapsed  since  he  ruled  over 
Israel. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Solomon  has  receiv¬ 
ed  such  posthumous  honors.  His  name — a 
prince  of  peace;  his  lineage — the  son  of  David’s 
old  age;  the  auspicious  circumstances  under 
which  he  ascended  the  throne;  his  completion 
of  the  temple;  his  wisdom  and  magnificence; 
the  glory  and  triumph  of  his  reign;  the  rapid 


104 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


growth  and  extent  of  his  sway;  his  foreign  al¬ 
liances  and  expeditions  to  the  far  East — these 
naturally  wove  about  him  a  magic  spell,  and 
gained  him  lasting  fame.  The  vices  that  dark¬ 
ened  his  happiness  in  his  declining  years,  the 
consequences  of  his  disobedience  to  God,  which 
are  told  in  Scripture’s  blunt  and  unflattering 
way — these  are  shadows  on  the  picture,  which 
have  only  added  to  Solomon’s  hold  on  the  pop¬ 
ular  mind,  and  left  a  distinct  impress  on  Jewish 
national  folk-lore.  His  later  sins  create,  in 
fact,  a  certain  sympathy  for  him,  so  singularly 
favored,  and  yet  so  deplorably  weak.  Who 
feels  not  compassion  at  Merlin’s  fall  ?  Does 
not  Wolsey’s  departed  greatness  arouse  our 
pity  ?  The  appalling  inconsistency  between 
the  wise  sayings  in  Solomon’s  proverbs,  and 
his  unrestrained  extravagance  at  last;  his  sub¬ 
lime  dedication  prayer  to  the  one  God,  and  his 
erection,  in  after  days,  of  seats  of  worship  for 
strange  gods — such  contrasts  and  contradic¬ 
tions  show  Solomon’s  humanity  at  least.  It  is 
the  humanity  in  “  Faust”  which  made  Goethe’s 
creation  a  world-drama.  Possibly  the  same  cir¬ 
cumstance  has  contributed  largely  to  Solomon’s 


WHEN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING. 


105 


popularity.  We  see  a  parallel  to  this  in  the 
traditional  view,  among  the  Arabs,  of  Haroun 
al  Raschid.  His  reign  is  held  to  have  been  a 
golden  era,  and  his  fame  and  deeds  are  cele¬ 
brated  in  tuneful  verse.  Yet  this  monarch  led 
far  from  a  model  life,  and  the  poets  have  con¬ 
siderably  exaggerated  the  glories  of  his  sway. 

Solomon  has  been  aptly  regarded  as  the  rep¬ 
resentative  of  Oriental  wisdom.  The  Bible  tells 
us  of  his  knowledge  of  nature  and  its  produc¬ 
tions,  of  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
animal  world,  his  “three  thousand  proverbs 
and  one  thousand  and  five  songs  ”  (l  Kings  v. 
12).  Legend,  first  in  the  Midrash,  and  then  in 
still  more  extravagant  and  grotesque  form  in 
Arabic  and  Persian  literature,  has  reared  an 
Aladdin’s  palace  of  fancy  on  the  simple  Biblical 
foundation.  The  ruler  of  Israel  appears  almost 
unrecognizable  amid  the  play  of  hyperbole. 
His  legendary  history  becomes  a  series  of  mag¬ 
ical  metamorphoses;  we  imagine  ourselves  in 
a  land  of  marvels;  it  is,  in  fact,  the  atmosphere 
of  the  A  rabian  Nights  : 

**  Sounds  and  sweet  airs  that  give  delight  and  hurt 
not.” 


io6 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


He  flits  in  and  out  with  the  suddenness  and 
agility  of  friend  Harlequin  in  the  olden  pan¬ 
tomime.  Jewish  and  Arabic  sources  are  full 
of  his  conversations  with  animals;  his  inter¬ 
course  with  spirits;  his  power  over  the  world 
of  demons;  his  weird  transformations  in  pur¬ 
suit  of  wisdom — in  the  style  of  the  mediaeval 
Arab  caliph — his  strange  adventures  on  sea 
and  land.  He  is  accompanied  by  a  retinue  of 
genii,  who  do  his  bidding  at  wondrous  speed. 
The  recurrence  of  types  in  legend  as  well  as 
nature  is  curiously  exemplified  in  the  Talmud, 
making  Solomon,  in  one  of  its  most  character¬ 
istic  tales  respecting  that  worthy,  a  prototype 
of  Faust,  whose  Mephistopheles  is  Ashmodai, 
king  of  the  demons;  while,  to  render  the  re¬ 
semblance  still  more  striking,  a  Margaret  is 
not  absent  from  the  story  in  the  person  of  the 
lovely  Naama,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Am¬ 
mon.  Naama’s  future,  however,  is  happier 
then  Gretchen’s.  Apocryphal  literature  fairly 
reveled  over  Solomon;  what  we  possess  is  but 
a  fragment  of  what  has  been  written  in  his 
glorification.  There  seems  to  have  been  no 
limit  to  the  imagination  of  writers  in  those 


WHEN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING,  I07 

days.  Side  by  side  with  accounts  of  his  power 
and  grandeur,  are  tales  of  his  misery  and 
degradation.  He  is  a  beggar  as  well  as  a 
monarch  in  folk-lore.  In  the  heat  of  his  am¬ 
bition  he  loses  his  precious  ring,  and  wanders 
and  suffers  until  he  regains  his  ring  and  throne. 
In  the  height  of  his  fame,  he  receives  warning 
of  impending  danger  ;  and  when  intoxicated 
with  pride  is  made  to  realize  the  truth  of  the 
lessons  embodied  in  the  Proverbs  and  Ecclesi¬ 
astes  ascribed  to  him. 

To  select  a  few  of  the  Solomonic  legends, 
and  to  present  them  briefly,  is  no  easy  task:  so 
many  are  equally  striking  that  it  is  difficult  to 
discriminate.  Perhaps  the  most  curious  are 
those  associated  with  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 
The  Bible  tells  of  her  visit  to  Solomon,  at¬ 
tracted  by  the  stories  of  his  wisdom,  and  how 
she  proposed  riddles  which  he  so  readily  solved. 
Riddles  were  special  favorites  among  the  an¬ 
cients,  and  some  current  conundrums  date 
from  gray  antiquity.  If  the  riddle  was  the 
form  chosen  by  the  oracle  in  Greece,  one  need 
not  wonder  that  the  Queen  of  Sheba  adopted 
a  similar  device  to  divine  Solomon’s  wisdom. 


io8 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


The  post-Biblical  legends  tell  us  the  exact 
character  of  these  riddles  and  their  solution. 
When  the  Queen  placed  two  wreaths  before 
the  monarch,  and  asked  him  to  tell  which  was 
real,  and  which  artificial,  he  opened  a  window, 
and  a  bee,  alighting  upon  the  natural  wreath, 
told  him  what  he  wished  to  know.  She  brought 
into  his  presence  a  number  of  male  and  female 
servants  dressed  alike,  and  wished  him  to  tell 
who  were  men,  and  who  were  women.  He 
ordered  his  eunuchs  to  give  them  nuts  and 
roasted  corn,  and  the  men  put  them  unabashed 
in  their  garments,  while  the  women,  more 
modest,  received  them  in  their  handkerchiefs, 
thus  revealing  their  sex  to  Solomon.  “What 
is  that,”  asked  the  Queen,  “  which  comes  like 
dust  from  the  earth,  whose  food  is  dust,  which 
is  poured  out  like  water,  and  which  illuminates 
the  house  ?  ”  “  Naphtha,”  came  the  ready  an¬ 

swer.  “  What  cries  in  a  heavy  wind  storm, 
and  bends  its  head  low,  suffocates  the  criminal 
and  clothes  the  wealthy,  is  destruction  to  the 
fish  and  pleasure  to  the  bird  ?  ”  “  Flax,”  was 

the  reply.  So  astonished  was  the  Queen  at  his 
prompt  and  accurate  answers  that  she  ex- 


WHEN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING,  IO9 

claimed,  “  I  did  not  believe  what  I  heard  of 
thee,  until  I  came  and  saw  with  mine  own  eyes.” 

Once  when  Solomon  desired  to  build  the 
temple,  he  sent  to  Pharoah  with  a  request  for 
artisans.  The  king  of  Egypt  summoned  his 
astrologers,  who  told  him  which  of  his  artisans 
would  die  during  that  year,  and  these  he  sent 
to  Solomon.  But  the  latter’s  wisdom  enabled 
him  to  detect  the  plot,  and  providing  each  with 
a  shroud,  he  returned  them  to  Pharoah,  with 
the  message:  “  Hast  thou  no  shrouds  wherein 
to  bury  thy  dead  ?  Here  I  have  provided  thy 
men  with  them.”  When  Solomon  married  the 
daughter  of  Pharoah,  the  rabbis  say,  she  not 
only  made  him  acquainted  with  a  thousand  dif-’ 
ferent  kinds  of  musical  instruments,  but  taught 
him,  as  well,  the  chants  to  idols,  which  caused 
him  to  forget  the  worship  of  the  One  God. 
Solomon  is  represented  as  riding  on  the  wind, 
seated  upon  a  great  mantle  sixty  miles  square. 
One  day  he  was  boasting  of  his  power  and  his 
wisdom,  when  the  wind  withdrew  from  him, 
and  forty  thousand  men  fell  from  his  mantle. 
“  Return,”  he  cried  in  his  alarm  to  the  wind, 
“and  be  calm!”  “Return  to  thy  God,”  the 


I  lO 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


wind  replied,  “  and  boast  not  of  thyself.  Then 
I  will  return.”  Thus  Solomon  was  taught  wis¬ 
dom  by  the  words  of  the  wind. 

In  Arab  legend,  Solomon’s  sagacity  was  il¬ 
lustrated  when  he  was  a  stripling  of  thirteen. 
Two  men  came  before  David  as  chief  of  the 
tribunal,  and  puzzled  him  greatly  in  reconcil¬ 
ing  their  differences,  until  he  asked  his  son 
Solomon  to  decide.  The  plaintiff  had  bought 
property  of  the  defendant,  and  while  digging 
out  a  cellar  had  found  a  treasure.  He  de¬ 
manded  that  the  defendant  should  take  the 
treasure  back,  for  he  bought  the  property  with¬ 
out  it;  while  the  defendant  asserted  that  it  did 
not  belong  to  him,  as  he  had  sold  to  the  plain¬ 
tiff  the  property,  and  all  its  contents.  Solomon 
suggested  that  the  best  way  to  settle  the  dis¬ 
pute  would  be  for  the  plaintiff s  son  to  marry 
the  defendant’s  daughter,  and  take  the  treasure 
as  their  own.  On  an  other  occasion,  when  the 
point  at  issue  was  the  damage  done  by  sheep, 
David  decided  that  the  owner  of  the  field 
should  receive  the  sheep  as  compensation. 
But  Solomon  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the 
plaintiff  should  keep  the  sheep,  receiving  their 


H^I/EN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING. 


I  I  I 


milk,  lambs  and  wool,  until  the  damage  inflict¬ 
ed  had  been  made  good.  The  other  judges 
were  not  satisfied  with  Solomon’s  decisions, 
and  resolved  to  subject  him  to  a  public  exam¬ 
ination  to  test  his  fitness  to  act  as  David’s 
successor.  He  baffled,  however,  their  most 
searching  inquiries,  and  passed  the  ordeal  in 
triumph.  Then  he  turned  upon  his  examiners, 
gave  them  questions  which  they  could  not 
answer,  and  displayed  such  wondrous  wisdom 
and  learning  that  his  adversaries  were  baffled, 
and  he  was  declared  by  acclamation  to  be  his 
father’s  successor. 

Solomon  was  passionately  fond  of  chess, 
which  he  is  said  to  have  invented.  He  was 
playing  once  with  his  favorite  general,  Benaiah, 
and  would  have  checkmated  him  as  usual,  when 
just  at  the  critical  moment  there  was  a  noise  in 
the  street.  The  king  ran  to  the  window  to  dis¬ 
cover  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  and  during 
his  absence  Benaiah  took  his  knight  from  the 
board,  and  so  won  the  game.  Solomon,  sur¬ 
prised  at  the  result,  as  it  was  the  first  game 
that  he  had  lost,  soon  concluded  that  Benaiah 
had  removed  a  knight,  but  said  nothing  about 


I  12 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


it,  as  he  was  confident  that  his  general  would 
make  a  voluntary  confession.  A  day  or  two 
afterward  he  noticed  two  men  acting  suspi¬ 
ciously  in  the  street,  as  if  intent  on  robbery. 
He  quickly  assumed  a  disguise,  and  hastened 
out  of  doors  until  he  met  the  pair.  He  assured 
them  that  he  too  was  a  thief  by  profession,  and 
promised  to  admit  them  to  the  royal  palace,  to 
which  he  had  keys.  At  nightfall  he  opened 
the  portals,  and  led  them  from  room  to  room 
until  they  reached  the  treasure  -  chamber. 
While  they  were  filling  their  bags  with  jewels 
and  diamonds,  he  quietly  closed  the  door,  and 
locked  it  from  without,  entrapping  them  com¬ 
pletely.  Then  he  hastened  to  his  own  apart¬ 
ment,  donned  his  royal  apparel,  and  summoned 
his  council  to  conference,  Benaiah  among  the 
number.  When  they  had  assembled,  the  king 
asked:  “What  shall  be  done  to  the  man  who 
robs  his  neighbor,  and  not  alone  his  neighbor 
but  the  king  himself.?”  At  the  words,  whose 
force  was  intensified  by  Solomon’s  glances, 
which  seemed  to  rest  upon  him,  Benaiah  felt 
certain  that  the  king  was  referring  to  his  theft 
at  chess.  “  If  I  am  silent,”  he  said  to  himself. 


WHEN  SOLOMON  WAS  KING.  I  13 

“  until  the  council  decides,  I  am  lost.  Confession 
is  the  best  way  to  retain  the  king’s  favor.”  Ac¬ 
cordingly  he  rose,  humbly  confessed  his  fault, 
and  begged  for  the  royal  mercy. 

“  Ah,  my  dear  general,”  Solomon  replied, 
with  a  smile,  “  I  did  not  assemble  the  council 
for  thy  sake.  I  have  already  forgotten,  and 
pardoned  thy  robbery.  There  is  something 
else  to  engage  our  attention  to-day.”  And 
then  he  told  them  of  his  adventure  with  the 
thieves,  who  were  promptly  executed.  But 
Solomon  did  not  so  soon  forget  the  contrite 
confession  of  his  brave  general,  which  he  had 
so  cleverly  elicited. 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR. 


JUST  as  in  the  Talmud  the  influence  of  a 
double  current  is  visible — the  one  called 
halakhah^  the  abstract  law  principle;  the  other 
hagadahy  the  legend  or  fanciful  tale:  so,  too, 
in  the  lives  of  the  older  rabbis  a  double  influ¬ 
ence  was  clearly  at  work — the  one  purely  in¬ 
tellectual,  impelling  men  to  study  the  law  with 
ceaseless  diligence;  the  other  more  emotional, 
springing  from  a  certain  moral  cheerfulness, 
which  made  them  social  beings,  and  preserved 
their  sense  of  humor.  Their  playfulness,  in¬ 
deed,  was  often  a  mask  assumed  to  conceal 
their  real  sentiments,  and  many  an  innocent 
parable  must  be  read  between  the  lines,  and 
stripped  of  its*hyperbole  if  its  true  meaning  is 
to  be  gained.  As  a  general  rule,  however,  rab¬ 
binical  humor  is  humor  unalloyed,  designed  to 
pass  away  the  time,  to  point  a  moral,  to  arouse 
the  attention,  to  entertain  the  children,  and 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR. 


II5 

divert  the  rabbis  themselves,  and  drive  home 
at  least  one  fruitful  thought. 

A  story  related  of  Solomon  throws  light  on 
the  fondness  of  the  rabbis  to  utter  a  joke  at  a 
wife’s  expense.  Such  an  act  of  ungallantry  is, 
happily,  fully  atoned  by  many  a  parable  and 
saying  which  do  ample  justice  to  the  virtues  of 
womanhood.  It  seems  that  one  day  Solomon 
was  seated  by  his  palace  window,  taking  a  lit¬ 
tle  relaxation  from  the  cares  of  state,  when  he 
noticed  two  birds  on  a  tree  in  the  garden  oppo- 
posite.  The  king,  as  the  Bible  records,  was 
such  a  clever  philologist  as  to  know  even  the 
language  of  birds,  and  so  he  warily  listened 
when  the  bird  addressed  its  loving  mate:  “  Do 
you  see  King  Solomon  over  there,  my  love  } 

Yes,  indeed,”  was  the  gentle  answer.  “Well,” 
said  the  first  speaker,  “do  you  know  what 
I  could  do,  if  I  wished.?”  “No,”'  she  re¬ 
joined,  full  of  curiosity,  “  what  could  you  do  .?  ” 
“  Why,”  he  rejoined,  with  a  pompous  air,  puff¬ 
ing  out  his  wings  at  full  sail,  “  with  one  stroke 
of  my  wings  I  could  crush  every  bone  in  Sol¬ 
omon’s  body,  and  with  another  stroke  overturn 
his  palace  from  turret  to  foundation-stone.” 


I  1 6  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

With  proud  mien  did  the  mate  regard  her  val¬ 
orous  husband,  and  felt  keenly  her  own  femi¬ 
nine  insignificance.  But  Solomon  was  not 
particularly  pleased.  He  summoned  the  boast¬ 
ful  bird  to  his  presence,  and  angrily  asked 
what  was  the  meaning  of  the  absurd  bragga¬ 
docio  he  had  heard.  Then  the  bird,  winking 
at  the  king  in  shameless  style,  begged  his  maj¬ 
esty’s  pardon.  “  Of  course,”  said  he,  “I  was 
merely  joking;  I  was  only  fooling  my  wife — a 
husband’s  privilege,  you  know.  She  believes 
everything  I  tell  her.”  And  then  the  little 
bird  quickly  hopped  away  to  his  admiring 
mate,  who  is  a  type  of  the  credulous  wife,  wor¬ 
shiping  her  husband  as  a  giant  and  a  hero, 
when  he  possesses  not  the  slightest  claims  to 
greatness. 

It  is  only  a  few  years  since  a  Southern  writer 
made  some  interesting  contributions  to  negro 
folk-lore,  and  the  figures  of  Brudder  Fox  and 
Brer  Wolf  have  become  familiar  to  the  reading 
public.  The  pranks  which  the  fox  played  upon 
the  wolf  are  by  no  means  so  recent  as  a  casual 
reader  might  fancy.  They  can  be  traced  back 
many  centuries,  and  found  exemplified  in  the 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR.  II  7 

folk-lore  of  various  races.  It  is  said,  for  in¬ 
stance,  that  one  well-known  rabbi,  Meir,  knew 
three  hundred  fables  about  foxes.  Here  is  a 
fox  and  wolf  story  strikingly  similar  to  one  of 
Mr.  Harris’s  tales,  and  which  illustrates,  besides, 
the  rabbinical  fondness  for  making  even  ani¬ 
mals  recite  Biblical  verses:  A  fox  once  per¬ 
suaded  a  wolf  to  enter  a  Jewish  house,  to  help 
prepare  the  Sabbath  meal.  No  sooner  had  he 
crossed  the  threshold  than  the  entire  family 
set  upon  him,  and  he  was  glad  to  escape  from 
the  blows  which  were  rained  upon  his  head. 
The  wolf  was  naturally  vexed  at  such  treat¬ 
ment;  but  the  fox  sought  to  soothe  his  ruffled 
spirit  by  remarking  that  probably  the  wolfs 
father  on  another  occasion  had  committed 
theft  in  that  very  dwelling.  “  What  !  ”  the 
wolf  replied,  repeating  a  verse  from  Ezekiel, 
the  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  shall 
the  children’s  teeth  be  set  on  edge  }  ”  The 
fox  endeavored  to  reinstate  himself  in  the 
good  opinion  of  the  wolf,  and  invited  the  latter 
to  accompany  him  to  a  new  and  more  attract¬ 
ive  dining-place.  He  took  him  to  a  well,  to 
which  two  buckets  were  attached.  The  fox 


I  1 8  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

quickly  jumped  into  the  bucket  which  chanced 
to  be  at  the  top,  thereby  descending  to  the 
well’s  bottom  and  raising  the  other  to  the  sur¬ 
face.  When  the  wolf  anxiously  inquired  why 
he  went  down,  the  fox  replied  that  there  was 
cheese  at  the  bottom,  and  pointed  to  the  re¬ 
flection  of  the  moon  on  the  water  in  proof 
of  his  statement.  The  wolf,  all  ready  for  the 
feast,  asked  how  to  descend,  and  was  told  to 
jump  into  the  bucket.  Naturally,  the  other 
bucket  with  the  fox  rose  to  the  top,  while  the 
wolf  below  became  conscious  of  the  trick  and 
implored  to  be  raised  again.  Ah,”  said  the 
fox,  using  a  verse  from  the  Proverbs,  “  ‘  The 
righteous  is  delivered  out  of  trouble,  and  the 
wicked  cometh  in  his  stead.’  ”  Then  he  added, 
as  a  further  moral  for  the  wolf  to  reflect  upon, 
the  sentence  from  Leviticus.  “  ‘  Just  balances 
and  just  weights.’  ” 

That  the  rabbis  could  be  guilty  of  puns,  nu¬ 
merous  examples  show;  but,  unfortunately,  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  translate  their  play 
upon  words  or  give  in  English  an  insight  into 
the  deft  way  in  which  they  exercise  their  hu¬ 
mor  upon  Biblical  verses.  A  fair  illustration 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR.  I  I  9 

of  such  a  Biblical  pun  is  the  following:  On  a 
road  through  a  dense  forest  stood  a  solitary 
inn,  whose  landlord  bore  a  very  unsavory  rep¬ 
utation.  He  was  wont  to  ask  each  guest  his 
next  stopping-place,  or  the  direction  of  his 
journey,  and  at  once  assert  that  he  intended 
to  take  a  trip  to  the  same  spot,  or  travel  in  the 
same  neighborhood,  and  would  be  glad  to 
have  a  companion.  Long  before  dawn  he 
would  arouse  the  traveler,  start  on  the  trip, 
and  after  they  had  entered  the  dark  forest,  rob 
him  without  mercy,  or  take  his  life  if  he  of¬ 
fered  resistance.  Now, one  evening  a  rabbi  came 
to  lodge  overnight,  and  at  supper,  as  usual, 
the  landlord  asked  his  customary  question. 
The  rabbi  stated  where  he  intended  to  go,  and 
expressed  his  pleasure  at  having  the  landlord 
as  escort.  He  then  retired  to  rest.  At  about 
midnight  he  was  awakened  by  a  violent  knock¬ 
ing  on  the  door,  and  the  voice  of  the  landlord 
calling  him  to  get  ready  for  the  journey. 
“  There  is  time  enough,”  said  he.  “  It  is  still 
dark,”  and  he  went  to  sleep  again.  In  an  hour 
or  so  the  landlord  knocked  once  more;  but 
this  time  the  rabbi  pleaded  his  inability  to 


I  20 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


start  until  his  friend  had  arrived.  What !  ” 
exclaimed  the  man,  not  particularly  overjoyed, 
“  you  expect  a  friend  at  this  hour  !  Pray,  what 
is  his  name  }  ”  “  My  friend’s  name,”  the  rabbi 

replied,  “is  Was-good.”  The  man  quickly  ran 
out  into  the  road,  calling  loudly,  “  Was-good  ! 
Was-good!”  but  no  Mr.  Was-good  made 
his  appearance.  “  I  don’t  see  your  friend,”  he 
said,  visibly  annoyed,  as  he  returned  to  the 
inn,  and  again  urged  the  rabbi  to  depart. 
“  He  must  come  very  soon  ;  he  cannot  de¬ 
lay  much  longer,”  the  rabbi  answered,  en¬ 
joying  the  man’s  impatience;  and  after  a  while 
he  exclaimed  in  exultant  tones,  “Why,  there 
he  is  !  ”  “I  don’t  see  him,”  cried  the  landlord, 
mystified.  “Look  !  ”  the  rabbi  said,  pointing 
toward  the  eastern  sky,  lit  up  by  the  first 
straggling  rays  of  dawn.  “  There  is  my  friend, 
the  light  of  day,  the  best  friend  of  man  and 
beast.  Does  not  the  Bible  say,  ‘  And  God 
saw  the  light  that  \\.  was-good  f' In  a  few 
moments  day  had  broken  in  earnest,  and  the 
rabbi  went  on  his  way  rejoicing,  while  the  dis¬ 
comfited  landlord  pleaded  an  excuse  for  not 
accompanying  him. 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR. 


I2I 


Much  quiet  wit  is  evinced  by  the  rabbis  in 
their  replies  to  skeptics  of  their  day,  many  of 
whose  objections  curiously  resemble  those 
raised  in  our  later  age.  A  rabbi  was  instruct¬ 
ing  his  disciples,  when  an  undevout  philosopher 
entered,  and  dared  him  to  answer  this  ques¬ 
tion  :  “  Who  created  the  world  }  ”  “  God,” 

the  rabbi  replied.  “  Prove  it  to  me,”  rejoined 
the  philosopher,  “prove  it !  ”  “  Come  to-mor¬ 
row,  friend,”  was  the  answer,  “and  then  I  shall 
adduce  the  proof.”  The  morrow  came,  and 
with  it  the  philosopher.  “  I’ll  answer  your 
question,”  said  the  rabbi,  “  if  you  will  first  an¬ 
swer  mine.  Tell  me  who  made  the  coat  you 
wear  .?  ”  “  Why,  the  weaver,  of  course,”  was 

the  prompt  reply.  “  The  weaver  }  ”  the  rabbi 
repeated.  “  How  do  you  know  that }  Prove  it 
to  me.”  “  Why,  it  stands  to  reason  that  the 
weaver  made  my  coat.”  “  Well,”  the  rabbi  re¬ 
joined  with  emphasis,  “just  as  a  coat  implies  a 
weaver,  and  a  door  a  carpenter,  so  the  creation 
implies  the  Creator,  blessed  be  He  !  ” 

Sometimes  the  questioner  did  not  receive  so 
kindly  a  reception.  A  Persian  told  the  learned 
Rab  that  he  desired  to  study  Hebrew.  “  Very 


I  22 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


well,”  said  the  master.  “  Let  us  begin  at  once. 
This  letter  is  called  Aleph.”  “  Aleph  ”  re¬ 
joined  the  man,  incredulous.  “  How  do  you 
prove  that  it  is  Aleph  ?  ”  “This  is  the  second 
letter,  Beth,”  continued  the  rabbi.  “  Beth  ” 
repeated  the  Persian  in  the  same  skeptical 
tone.  “  Prove  to  me  that  it  is  Beth.”  Then 
Rab  became  so  exasperated  that  he  would  not 
continue  the  lesson,  when  the  Persian  went  to 
the  contemporary  of  Rab,  the  celebrated  Sam¬ 
uel,  and  applied  to  him  for  instruction.  He 
displayed  his  doubting  spirit  as  before,  until 
Samuel  caught  him  by  the  ear,  and  gave  it  a 
sharp  twinge.  “My  ear  I  My  ear!”  shouted 
the  man  in  his  pain.  “Your  ear.?”  repeated 
Samuel.  “Prove  to  me  that  it  is  your  ear.” 
“What  a  strange  question!”  said  the  man. 
“  Why,  everybody  calls  it  so.”  “  Very  true, 
my  friend,”  was  the  sage’s  answer,  “  and  in  the 
same  way  all  call  those  letters  Aleph  and  Beth. 
Does  this  satisfy  you  .?  ”  It  is  consoling  to 
learn  that  the  Persian  became  an  apt  scholar 
at  last,  thanks  to  Samuel’s  salutary  method. 
Another  rabbi  gave  a  more  logical  answer  to 
a  doubter  who  once  thus  interrogated  him. 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR. 


123 


Ye  fools  who  believe  in  a  resurrection  !  See 
ye  not  that  the  living  die  ?  How,  then,  can  ye 
believe  that  the  dead  shall  live?’’  “Foolish 
man  !  ”  the  rabbi  answered.  “  Thou  believest 
in  a  creation  ?  Well,  then,  if  what  never  be¬ 
fore  existed  exists,  why  may  not  that  which 
once  existed  exist  again  ?  ”  An  unbeliever 
said  to  Rabbi  Gamliel:  “  When  the  Bible 
speaks  of  the  greatness  of  God,  it  says  that  He 
can  tell  the  number  of  the  stars.  What  great¬ 
ness  is  that  ?  I  know  their  number  as  well.” 
“Tell  me  how  many  teeth  thou  hast?”  said 
the  rabbi  in  reply.  The  man  put  his  hand  into 
his  mouth  to  count  them.  “Thou  knowest 
not  what  thou  hast  in  thy  mouth,”  the  rabbi 
exclaimed,  “  and  thou  pretendest  to  know  the 
number  of  the  stars  ?  ” 

Woman,  a  topic  for  satire  in  the  sayings  and 
proverbs  of  every  nation,  appears  of  course  in 
the  table-talk  of  the  rabbis.  Why  was  Eve 
formed  from  Adam’s  side,  and  not  from  an¬ 
other  portion  of  his  body  ?  If  the  head  had 
been  selected,  she  would  have  been  too  proud; 
if  the  eye,  too  wanton;  if  the  mouth,  too  loqua¬ 
cious;  if  the  heart,  too  passionate;  if  the  hands, 


I  24  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

too  bustling;  if  the  feet,  too  much  of  a  gada¬ 
bout.  “  A  modest  side  was  chosen,  that  she 
should  be  modest,”  and  yet,  the  rabbis  add, 
woman  has  a  share  of  all  the  faults  mentioned. 
When  a  prince  reproached  a  rabbi  for  worship¬ 
ing  a  God  who  practiced  theft,  seeing  that  a 
rib  was  stolen  from  Adam,  the  prince  was 
asked  whether  he  considered  it  theft  if  he  found 
a  golden  cup  substituted  for  a  silver  one. 
“  But  it  was  done  secretly,”  the  prince  asserted. 
“  To  save  Adam  from  seeing  the  unpleasant¬ 
ness  of  the  process,”  was  the  answer.  “  You 
would  lose  your  appetite  if  you  saw  raw  meat 
in  all  the  stages  of  being  cooked.” 

Carlyle  denies  to  the  Jews  any  sense  of 
humor:  “Hardly  any  Jew  creature,  not  even 
a  blackguard  Heine  to  any  real  length,”  so 
reads  his  invective.  How  little  he  knew  of 
Semitic  humor,  which  the  Hebrews  shared  in 
common  with  their  Arab  kinsmen  !  Of  humor 
in  its  Satanic  sense  they  had  nothing;  of  humor 
in  its  genial  form,  the  Talmud  is  full.  It  was 
a  standing  rule  of  the  rabbis  to  cultivate  cheer¬ 
fulness.  They  recommended,  indeed,  that 
teachers  shall  be  especially  good-natured  in 


RABBINICAL  HUMOR. 


125 


their  intercourse  with  disciples,  and  not  abrupt¬ 
ly  begin  the  hour  of  instruction  without  having 
first  a  little  pleasantry.  It  is  distinctly  stated 
of  Rabba,  one  of  the  famous  masters,  that  he 
used  to  preface  his  lessons  by  humorous  anec¬ 
dotes  which  put  his  pupils  in  a  happy  frame  of 
mind.  Sometimes  an  ancedote  would  be  em¬ 
ployed  to  startle  an  audience,  and  arouse  them 
from  drowsiness.  A  rabbi,  finding  his  hearers 
rather  sleepy,  gravely  informed  them  that  there 
was  once  a  mother  in  Israel,  who  had  600,000 
children  at  one  birth.  Of  course,  the  people 
were  now  wide  awake,  and  when  they  inquired 
as  to  her  name,  he  answered  :  “  Jochebed.” 

Certainly  the  mother  of  Moses  would  regard 
her  son  as  equal  to  600,000  of  his  brethen. 


THE  MUNCHAUSEN  OF  THE 
TALMUD. 


During  the  early  part  of  the  third  century 
of  the  common  era,  there  lived  a  rabbi 
who  acquired  a  national  reputation,  both  in 
Palestine  and  Babylonia,  as  the  author  of  very 
imaginative  stories.  These  tales  survive  and 
stamp  him  as  a  Munchausen,  centuries  before  the 
appearance  of  that  famous  baron.  But  Rabba 
bar  bar  Ghana — such  was  the  rabbi’s  name — 
was  more  than  a  mere  raconteur  :  he  was  a 
scholar  and  sage  besides.  Hence  there  is  an 
added  significance  in  his  narratives.  They 
have,  in  truth,  all  the  delightful  flavor  of  an  old 
salt — they  tell  of  the  sea-serpent  ages  before 
its  regular  appearance  in  the  columns  of  the 
enterprising  daily  press.  Mr.  Rider  Haggard’s 
incidents  are  not  to  be  despised;  but  they  pale 
into  insignificance  compared  with  the  marvels 
on  land  and  sea  described  by  the  doughty  rab- 


MUNCHAUSEN  OF  THE  TALMUD.  127 

bi.  Sir  John  Mandeville  is  full  of  wonders, 
but  Rabba  bar  bar  Ghana  is  his  equal.  We 
are  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Arabian  Nights; 
the  swift-footed  Genii  are  abroad.  What  mys¬ 
terious  noises,  what  sudden  apparitions,  what 
fanciful  appearances  and  disappearances  !  The 
rabbi  sedately  raises  his  magic  wand,  and  the 
scene  changes  with  the  rapidity  of  a  Mephisto. 

“  Wandering  voices  mock  the  air  ! 

Forms  that  phantoms  are  appear  !  ” 

That  numerous  commentaries  have  been 
written  to  explain  his  sky-rockets  of  hyperbole, 
that  his  interpreters  go  to  work  with  the 
gravity  and  resolution  of  students  of  Shake¬ 
speare  or  Goethe,  invest  his  tales  with  peculiar 
interest  and  assure  him  a  kind  of  immortality. 

Like  the  proverbial  story-teller,  there  is 
nothing  bashful  about  Rabba.  What  he  has 
not  seen  is  not  worth  seeing,  and  what  he  has 
seen  cannot  be  told  in  the  picturesque  strain. 
He  once  saw  an  Arab  transfix  a  camel  with 
his  lance  without  disturbing  the  animal  in  the 
least.  The  desert  of  Israel’s  forty  years’  wan¬ 
derings  is  his  favorite  camping-ground.  An 


128 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Arab  shows  him  Mount  Sinai,  and  he  hears 
from  its  summit  a  divine  voice :  “  Woe  that  I 
have  sworn  !  and  now  after  I  have  sworn  to  ex¬ 
ile  Israel  from  his  land — who  will  release  me 
from  the  oath  ?  ”  He  sees  the  very  spot  where 
Korah  and  his  followers  were  swallowed  up, 
and  from  the  smoking  depths  these  words  are 
borne  to  his  receptive  ears,  “  Moses  is  truth, 
and  his  law  is  truth  ;  but  we  are  liars.”  He 
views  the  exact  spot  where  heaven  and  earth 
kiss  each  other.  He  hung  his  bread-basket 
there  and  went  away,  but  when  he  returned,  his 
basket  was  not  to  be  found.  His  guide  told 
him  that  if  he  would  revisit  the  place  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  he  would  find  the  basket  once 
more — could  the  earth’s  rotation  be  illustrated 
in  a  more  poetic  parable  ? 

The  sea-stories  that  Rabba  so  cheerfully  and 
constantly  spun  in  days  when  the  sea  was 
shrouded  in  much  more  mystery  than  now, 
bear  the  mark  of  the  traditional  traveler.  “  I 
once  was  at  sea,”  so  he  sagely  relates,  “  and 
there  I  saw  a  fish  whose  back  was  covered 
with  sand  and  grass.  We  all  thought  it  was 
an  island  and  landed,  starting  a  fire  to  cook 


MUNCHAUSEN  OF  THE  TALMUD.  I  2g 

our  food.  But  when  the  fish  felt  the  warmth, 
it  turned  over,  and  we  would  have  been 
drowned  if  a  ship  had  not  rescued  us.”  Upon 
another  occasion,  Rabba  saw  a  bird  which 
stood  to  its  lower  joints  in  the  water,  while  its 
head  reached  the  sky.  He  and  his  friends 
thought  that  the  sea  must  here  be  shallow,  and 
they  prepared  without  any  hesitation  to  bathe, 
when  a  voice  exclaimed  :  “  Enter  not  the 

water.  A  carpenter,  seven  years  ago,  let  fall 
his  axe  on  this  very  spot,  and  it  has  not  yet 
touched  bottom  :  not  that  the  water  is  deep, 
but  its  current  is  rapid.” 

Could  a  fish  story  of  modern  date  equal  the 
following  }  Rabba  was  once  at  sea  when  an 
immense  fish  was  sighted.  A  small  insect 
crept  into  its  nose  and  caused  its  death.  The 
waves  cast  ashore  the  body,  which  in  its  onset 
destroyed  sixty  cities.  Its  flesh  nourished 
sixty  cities  more,  while  enough  nutriment  was 
left  to  serve  as  salt-fish  for  sixty  other  cities. 
Three  hundred  measures  of  oil  streamed  from 
its  eyes.  After  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  Rabba 
visited  the  place  again,  and  found  that  the 
sixty  destroyed  cities  had  been  rebuilt  from  its 


130 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


bones.  It  was  not  enough,  however,  for  Rabba 
to  tell  about  a  huge  fish.  He  once  saw  an 
enormous  frog,  as  large  as  sixty  houses.  It 
was  swallowed  atone  gulp  by  a  serpent,  which 
in  its  turn  was  digested  by  a  sea-monster. 
After  the  full  meal,  the  fish  coolly  sat  upon  a 
tree.  How  strong  a  tree  that  must  have  been  ! 
“  If  I  had  not  been  present,”  adds  another  sage, 
“  I  would  not  have  believed  it.”  Did  the  ex¬ 
aggeration  exhaust  Rabba  ?  Not  at  all.  His 
vessel  was  once  carried  aloft  by  a  tremendous 
wave,  so  close  to  a  star  that  the  people  on 
board  were  almost  scorched  by  the  stellar 
heat. 

It  is  possible  that  many  of  Rabba’s  tales 
were  but 

“  The  children  of  an  idle  brain 
Begot  of  nothing  but  vain  fantasy;” 

yet  some  bear  the  mark  of  earnest  purpose. 
They  were  parables  for  the  times,  sermons  for 
the  people,  and  couched  in  a  style  that  would 
emphasize  the  truth  which  was  sought  to  be 
conveyed.  When  he  told  of  the  sea-monster 
which  was  mistaken  for  land,  until  it  turned 
over  and  threatened  them  with  destruction, 


MUNCHA  USEN  OF  THE  TALMUD,  I  3  I 

may  he  not  have  hinted  at  the  Roman  power, 
which  apparently  gave  shelter,  only  at  last  to 
overwhelm  them  ?  In  those  troublous  ages, 
with  informers  and  sycophants  at  every  step, 
political  topics  could  be  discussed  only  in  a 
guarded  way  ;  and  the  witty  hyperbole  was  a 
mask  for  teaching  many  a  home  truth,  which 
the  people  could  readily  understand  and  apply 
to  their  own  condition.  The  moral  beauty  in 
many  of  Rabba’s  stories  is  not  to  be  denied, 
and  their  interpretation  is  a  favorite  with  old- 
time  preachers.  Could  duty  to  the  dead  be 
more  powerfully  exemplified  than  in  the  fol¬ 
lowing  incident  ?  Rabba  relates  that,  while 
traveling  in  the  wilderness,  he  came  upon  dead 
bodies  of  immense  size,  with  their  faces  up¬ 
turned  to  the  sky.  He  sprang  from  his  camel 
and  took  the  fringe  from  the  garment  of  one  of 
them.  He  remounted  the  animal,  but  it  re¬ 
fused  to  advance  a  step  until  he  had  restored 
the  stolen  fringe. 

More  lovely  and  suggestive  is  the  story  of 
the  golden  dove,  which  proves  that  Rabba  was 
more  than  a  mere  humorist  and  satirist.  He  was 
traveling  once  with  a  caravan,  and  was  resum- 


132 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


ing  the  journey  after  a  rest  for  dinner,  when  he 
became  suddenly  aware  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
forgotten  to  say  the  customary  blessing  after 
meals.  He  wished  to  repeat  the  prescribed 
prayer  at  the  spot  where  he  had  eaten,  but  did 
not  desire  to  acquaint  his  companions  with  the 
fact  because  they  would  not  recognize  the  pro¬ 
priety  of  the  law.  So  he  gave  as  an  excuse, 
that  he  had  forgotten  the  golden  figure  of  a 
dove,  and  wished  to  return.  He  started  back, 
reached  the  spot  of  the  previous  station,  uttered 
the  prayer,  and  found  in  truth  a  golden  dove. 
Could  fantasy  suggest  a  more  striking  parable 
to  illustrate  the  worth  of  religious  precepts  ? 

One  of  the  most  obscure  and  enigmatic  of 
Rabba’s  sayings  has  received  such  a  serious 
and  elaborate  interpretation  that  it  may  be 
properly  given  here.  “I  was  traveling  in  the 
desert,”  Rabba  observes,  “  when  I  noticed  a 
flock  of  geese,  whose  feathers  had  fallen  off  by 
reason  of  their  fatness,  and  the  fat  was  flowing 
from  under  them  like  a  stream.  I  said  to  them: 

‘  Will  any  of  you  have  a  portion  in  the  future 
world  ?  ’  Upon  this,  one  of  them  uplifted  a 
leg,  and  another  its  wing.  When  I  told  this  to 


MUNCH  A  USEN  OF  THE  TALMUD, 


133 


Rabbi  Eleazar,  he  said  t6  me,  ‘  Israel  will  some 
day  have  to  give  an  account  for  this.’  ”  The 
interpretation  is  as  follows  :  The  fatness  of  the 
goose  is  the  symbol  of  stupidity  and  ignorance. 
The  wing  represents  the  loftiness  of  wisdom, 
signifying  in  this  allegory  the  mind,  which 
possesses  great  capacities  that  are  often  neg¬ 
lected  and  hence  sink  into  sensuality.  It  was 
Rabba’s  purpose  to  state  that  during  his  jour¬ 
ney  of  life  he  had  found  people  of  great  ability, 
whose  intellect  was  burdened  by  too  many 
worldly  duties,  and  who  were  led  away  by  the 
gratifications  of  earth.  Astounded  at  their 
neglect  of  mental  culture,  he  examined  this 
class  of  men  as  to  whether  they  knew  any¬ 
thing  about  another  and  a  better  existence — 
the  world  of  knowledge  and  learning.  There¬ 
upon,  one  of  them  pointed  to  his  well-fed  body, 
expressing  the  thought  that  bodily  pleasure 
alone  was  his  idea  of  happiness,  intellectual 
and  spiritual  life  being  unknown  to  him.  An¬ 
other,  however,  showed  him  his  wing,  and 
Rabba  inferred  from  this  action  that  they  were 
still  capable  of  the  intellectual  enjoyments  of 
that  other  world,  after  which  he  was  so  dili- 


134  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

gently  inquiring.  When  he  had  related  his 
experiences  to  Rabbi  Eleazar,  the  latter  said : 
“For  those  who  have  mental  powers  and 
abilities  which  they  willfully  neglect,  in  their 
entire  abandonment  to  earthly  gains  and  pur¬ 
suits.  Israel  will  have,  one  day,  to  give  solemn 
and  strict  account  before  God.’' 


THE  RABBI’S  DREAM. 


T  F  ever  poverty  had  fastened  upon  a  dwell- 
ing,  it  was  in  the  humble  abode  of  Ha- 
nina.  The  scholars  of  his  time  were  rarely 
noted  for  their  opulence  —  they  were  satisfied 
to  maintain  themselves  by  honest  toil,  and 
never  lost  heart,  however  heavily  the  cares  of 
life  pressed  upon  them.  In  Hanina’s  case  the 
shadows  were  dark  indeed;  but  he  was  not  the 
man  to  murmur.  A  little  was  ample  for  him¬ 
self  and  family.  Their  wants  were  few  and 
readily  supplied  if  water  and  bread  were  forth¬ 
coming. 

Yet  Hanina  was  no  ordinary  sage.  Modest, 
unassuming,  and  always  content,  like  a  bird, 
if  a  few  crumbs  fell  to  his  share,  he  was  re¬ 
garded  as  possessing  marvelous  gifts  and  the 
ability  to  perform  miracles.  Poor  Hanina  1  was 
not  existence  itself  a  miracle  amid  thy  sur¬ 
roundings  ^  Was  there  not  something  super- 

135 


136  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS, 

natural  in  thy  self-control  and  contentment,  in 
the  warmth  of  thy  faith  in  the  Eternal  good¬ 
ness,  although  thy  hearthstone  was  cold  and 
bare  ?  Surely  there  must  have  been  a  miracle- 
working  power  in  that  soul  of  thine  which  kept 
thy  countenance  so  placid  and  uncomplaining. 
What  angelic  agencies  must  have  accompanied 
thee  on  thy  walk  to  the  academy  and  kept 
watch  over  thee  in  the  debates  and  discussions 
of  the  masters  !  Otherwise  how  couldst  thou 
have  displayed  such  learning  and  skill,  with 
hunger  and  want  gnawing  within  thee  ?  The 
good  man,  already  crowned  with  the  gift  of 
divination,  kept  straight  to  the  path  assigned 
him  and  seemed  to  the  outer  world  lost  in  phi¬ 
losophic  thought.  But  his  wife  was  far  from 
being  a  prophet.  She  was  intensely  a  woman, 
and  however  ardently  she  loved  her  husband, 
she  desired  no  martyrdom.  The  cold  blast 
could  not  be  philosophized  away.  The  chil¬ 
dren’s  hunger  and  her  own  necessities  were 
facts  ever  present  to  her,  and  she  felt  that 
life  was  unduly  hard.  She  grew  ashamed  of 
her  poverty,  which  seemed  to  become  greater 
and  greater,  and  strove  to  conceal  it  as  far  as 


THE  R ABBES  DREAM. 


possible  from  her  inquisitive  neighbors.  She 
saved,  she  toiled,  and  she  was  abundantly  con¬ 
tent  if  once  a  week  she  could  throw  a  blazing 
log  into  the  oven,  spreading  a  pillar  of  smoke 
which  made  it  appear  as  if  the  weekly  portion 
of  bread  was  being  baked.  The  deceit  was 
pardonable,  and  it  escaped  detection  for  a  time. 

In  the  neighborhood  there  lived  a  rather 
malicious  woman  who  despised  Haninaand  his 
family  for  their  poverty,  and  who  could  not 
understand  the  weekly  volumes  of  smoke  issu¬ 
ing  from  their  wretched  abode.  “  What  a  sub¬ 
terfuge  !  ”  she  exclaimed  to  herself  at  last. 
“  But  they  cannot  deceive  me.  The  trick  is 
too  transparent.  I  know  they  have  no  flour. 
How,  then,  can  they  bake  bread  1 11  tear 
away  their  mask  —  the  beggars  that  they  are  ! 

Full  of  wrath,  which  is  often  called  righteous 
according  to  the  point  of  view,  she  hastened 
to  Hanina’s  dwelling  one  day  when  the  rising 
smoke  was  no  longer  to  be  endured,  so  obnox¬ 
ious  had  the  sham  become.  She  knocked  at 
the  door  sharply  and  vigorously,  as  though 
she  had  an  important  duty  to  discharge  which 
would  brook  no  delay.  Hanina’s  wife  was 


138  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

within  and  trembled  at  the  sound.  Visitors 
were  rare  and  were  certainly  least  welcome  at 
that  moment.  With  throbbing  heart  she  opened 
the  door,  and,  recognizing  her  visitor  and  the 
purpose  of  the  visit,  she  blushed  and  fled  into 
another  room,  leaving  the  field  clear  for  the 
enemy. 

The  visitor  was  all  smiles.  No  opportunity 
could  be  more  propitious.  She  was  mistress  of 
all  she  surveyed.  With  a  bound  she  rushed  to 
the  oven  and  peered  within.  Oh,  marvel  of 
marvels  !  It  was  full  of  bread,  full  to  reple¬ 
tion.  In  her  surprise  and  confusion  she  shouted : 
“Come,  neighbor,  be  quick!  The  shovel  I 
The  bread  is  burning  1”  Hanina’s  wife  hurried 
into  the  room,  concealed  her  amazement,  and 
saved  the  bread  from  destruction.  Thus  had 
the  Lord  performed  a  miracle  to  prevent  Ha¬ 
nina’s  wife  being  put  to  shame. 

It  was  evening.  Hanina  came  home  and  was 
met  at  the  threshold  by  the  wife.  The  won¬ 
derful  story  was  quickly  told.  He  listened,  but 
said  nothing.  Silence  is  often  of  the  highest 
wisdom. 

“  Dear  husband,”  said  his  wife,  after  a  pause. 


THE  RABBTS  DREAM, 


139 


“I  have  something  more  to  say  to  thee.  Nay, 
be  not  angry.  I  can  no  longer  hold  my  peace. 
Tell  me  truly.  Dost  thou  think  that  we  shall 
forever  lead  such  a  life  as  is  ours  }  Will  pov¬ 
erty  be  always  our  lot }  Are  we  never  to  en¬ 
joy  a  little  sunshine,  a  little  prosperity }  Must 
our  helpless  children  become  beggars  like  their 
parents  }  ” 

“  I  am  not  angry,  dear  wife,”  the  husband 
answered.  “  I  know  thy  hardships,  but  I  share 
them  as  well.  What  can  I  do 

“  What  canst  thou  do  !  ”  the  woman  repeated, 
half  in  anger,  half  in  derision  —  “What  canst 
thou  do!  Art  thou  not  a  worker  of  miracles.^  Do 
not  thy  prayers  cure  the  sick  and  restore  to  life 
the  dying  ?  Pray,  then,  for  thine  own.  Let  thy 
wife  and  children  have  some  happiness  in  this 
world — a  little  more  warmth  and  food  and  rai¬ 
ment  than  they  now  possess.  Surely  in  the 
world  to  come  there  is  a  large  share  of  wealth  for 
so  good  and  learned  a  man  as  thou  art.  Why 
not  pray  to  God  to  allow  thee  some  portion  of 
it,  however  small,  in  our  present  existence 

What  could  the  poor  man  do  ?  Entreated 
so  earnestly  by  his  wife,  he  withstood  her  im- 


140 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


portunities  for  a  while,  for  he  thought  them 
unworthy  and  irreligious.  But  when  he  found 
that  he  could  pacify  her  in  no  other  way,  he 
resigned  himself  to  his  lot  and  began  to  pray. 
Gentle  at  first  were  his  tones  of  prayer,  and 
ever  gentler,  until  only  his  lips  moved,  framing 
the  thoughts  that  sprang  from  his  heart.  While 
he  was  thus  ardently  praying,  his  eyes  up¬ 
raised,  his  hands  extended,  he  saw  something 
shining  in  the  distance  and  descending  slowly. 
Fancy  his  astonishment  when,  as  if  in  answer 
to  his  petition,  there  fell  at  his  feet  a  massive 
golden  leg  of  a  golden  table. 

What  were  Hanina’s  emotions  as  he  raised 
his  treasure  !  He  trembled  and  almost  wept. 
And  he  felt  self-accused,  as  though  he  had 
committed  a  crime.  His  conscience  smote  him, 
he  knew  not  why.  He  went  to  bed,  but  could 
not  sleep,  so  active  was  his  fantasy.  A  thou¬ 
sand  forms  danced  before  him.  A  thousand 
aspects  of  cloud  and  mist  pursued  him  in  the 
visions  of  the  night.  And  then  he  slept,  while 
a  deep,  mysterious  dream  fell  upon  him. 

He  stood  before  the  gates  of  Heaven,  whose 
portals  swung  open  to  receive  him.  The  heav- 


THE  RABBFS  DREAM. 


141 


enly  abode  was  all  ablaze  with  gold  and  jewels, 
while  the  departed  sat  at  their  heavenly  meal, 
each  at  a  splendid  golden  table  of  his  own. 
He,  too,  seemed  to  be  seated  before  a  table; 
but  it  shook  and  trembled,  and  when  he  tried 
to  steady  it,  he  found  his  labor  in  vain.  A  leg 
was  missing. 

Terrified,  the  man  awoke.  The  full  significance 
of  the  dream  burst  upon  him.  It  was  a  warn¬ 
ing  which  he  dared  not  neglect.  Was  he  to 
imperil  future  happiness  by  pleasure  that  was 
as  transitory  as  the  mist  and  as  little  real 
When  the  holy  ones  of  all  races  and  creeds 
were  enjoying  future  bliss,  was  he  alone  to  be 
unsatisfied,  agitated  by  the  consciousness  of 
guilt } 

“  Take  thy  gift  back,  O  God  !  ”  Hanina  cried 
in  his  agony.  “  Take  it  back  and  restore  me 
my  peace  of  soul !” 

The  gift  vanished  as  mysteriously  as  it  ap¬ 
peared,  and  Hanina  never  told  his  dream.  He 
felt  more  firmly  than  ever  the  truth  in  the  say¬ 
ing  of  the  sages  that  no  man  can  enjoy  two 
meals  —  the  one  on  earth,  the  other  in  heaven. 


7 HE  GIFT  THAT  BLESSED. 


TI?EW  men  were  better  known  than  Aben 
Judan.  It  was  not  only  his  wealth  which 
spread  his  name  and  fame,  but  his  unfailing 
benevolence  and  the  courtesies  which  he  ex¬ 
tended  to  all.  He  was  the  earliest  to  respond 
to  the  call  of  charity,  and  his  personal  services 
as  well  as  his  gold  were  alike  at  the  disposal 
of  the  people.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that 
they  loved  him  more  and  more,  and  the  rabbis 
who  annually  traveled  through  Palestine  to 
collect  funds  in  aid  of  the  poor,  knew  in  ad¬ 
vance  who  would  be  their  most  generous  con¬ 
tributor.  Yet  all  the  splendor  of  fortune  did 
not  dazzle  Aben  Judan:  he  retained  a  certain 
modesty  of  disposition  and  simplicity  of  char¬ 
acter  ;  and  his  faith  was  childlike  and  un¬ 
questioning. 

The  day  arrived,  however,  when  Aben  Judan 


143 


THE  GIFT  THA  T  BLESSED. 


143 


was  to  learn  that  earthly  wealth  had  no  per¬ 
manence.  A  succession  of  calamities  over¬ 
whelmed  the  province  in  which  he  lived.  First, 
the  storm-wind  raged  with  fearful  violence, 
destroying  his  luxuriant  crops,  uprooting  his 
sturdy  trees,  and  demolishing  his  buildings. 
His  fair  estate  was  a  prey  to  the  hurricane’s 
devastation,  and  nought  escaped.  Then,  per¬ 
haps  as  a  result  of  the  widespread  ruin  which 
drove  his  flocks  and  herds  from  their  accus¬ 
tomed  pastures,  a  distemper  broke  out  among 
the  cattle.  It  could  not  be  checked,  it  rapidly 
gained  headway,  and  soon  Aben  Judan,  who 
surely  did  not  deserve  these  hard  strokes  of 
fate,  lost  the  greater  part  of  his  property.  His 
land  alone  remained,  which  was  quickly  seized 
by  creditors  to  meet  their  own  obligations  in 
the  general  panic. 

The  reverse  of  fortune  was  complete  and 
terrific.  It  would  have  prostrated  a  man  of 
less  heroic  build;  but  Aben  Judan,  though  he 
bent  to  the  blow,  preserved  his  equanimity, 
and  was  far  from  being  utterly  cast  down.  He 
had  health  yet — he  could  begin  anew;  such 
changes  were  part  of  life’s  varied  experiences; 


144 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


he  could  meet  them  manfully,  and,  like  Job, 
declare,  “  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  ” 

With  this  benediction  on  his  lips,  and  his  heart 
all  aglow  with  gratitude,  even  at  the  moment  of 
his  apparent  wretchedness,  he  retired  to  a  small 
cabin  and  cultivated  a  remnant  of  land  which 
was  happily  rescued  from  the  general  wreck.  So 
diligently  did  he  labor,  his  olden  activity  and 
intelligence  coming  to  his  aid,  that  his  work  was 
blessed  beyond  his  most  sanguine  hopes.  He 
was  enabled  to  maintain  his  own  family — that 
was  his  first  ambition — and  then  how  happy 
was  he  to  find  that  he  could  also  relieve  the 
distress  of  others  !  His  lowly  cabin  formed  the 
strongest  possible  contrast  to  his  stately  resi¬ 
dence  in  the  past;  but  his  heart  retained  its 
old-time  charity,  and  he  was  comforted. 

It  chanced  one  evening,  as  he  was  resting 
before  the  door  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
and  talking  cheerfully  to  his  children,  who  sur¬ 
rounded  him,  the  news  was  brought  that  the 
three  rabbis,  who  were  accustomed  to  pay  an¬ 
nual  visits  to  the  neighborhood,  were  on  their 
rounds  again,  and  might  be  expected  at  any 


/ 


THE  GIFT  THA  T  BLESSED. 


145 


moment.  A  change  fell  upon  Aben  Judan:  he 
could  not  control  his  emotion.  He  became 
pale  and  agitated,  and  withdrew  from  the  cir¬ 
cle  of  children  with  an  exclamation  of  despair. 

“What  ails  thee,  dear  husband.-*”  his  wife 
tenderly  inquired;  for  she  had  noticed  his  sud¬ 
den  sadness,  and  had  followed  him  within. 
“  Has  some  illness  befallen  thee  which  thou 
seekest  to  conceal  }  What  is  thy  trouble  }  ” 

“  I  have  no  illness,”  he  replied,  after  a  brief 
pause.  “  Yet  my  trouble  is  grievous,  and 
would  to  heaven  thou  couldst  assuage  it.  But 
that  is  impossible.  It  is  God  alone  who  can 
help  at  this  crisis.  Dost  thou  remember,  wife, 
in  the  days  of  our  prosperity  how  we  rejoiced 
to  aid  the  destitute  }  Our  corn  fed  the  hungry, 
our  wool  clothed  the  naked,  and  our  wine 
cheered  the  sad  at  heart.  What  times  were 
those  !  How  the  orphans  blessed  us,  the 
widows  shed  tears  of  joy  at  our  approach, 
what  happiness  we  diffused,  which  returned  to 
us  an  hundredfold  !  What  bliss  it  was  to 
participate  in  kindly  deeds  and  realize  the 
delight  of  scattering  love  to  the  deserving 
poor  !  But  all  that  is  now  changed.  We  can- 


146  TORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

not  aid  others,  because  we  ourselves  are  so 
wretched  and  needy.” 

“  Why,  husband,  thy  words  surprise  me  !  ” 
the  wife  exclaimed,  deeply  moved.  “  Thou  art 
usually  so  happy  in  thy  disposition,  and  dost 
never  murmur  against  the  will  of  God.  Why 
art  thou  now  so  discontented  ?  ” 

“Didst  thou  not  hear,”  Aben  Judan  an¬ 
swered,  “  didst  thou  not  hear  that  the  collect¬ 
ors  are  coming  ?  What  sums  we  used  to  give 
them,  what  bounty  gladdened  them  in  the  past ! 
What  have  we  now  to  offer  ?  ” 

“  Is  this  the  cause  of  thy  distress  }  ”  the  wife 
replied.  “  God  has  not  left  thee  destitute.  Thou 
hast  still  some  means.  Hast  thou  not  this  very 
field  ?  Let  us  sell  one-half  of  it  and  give  the 
proceeds  to  the  rabbis.  There,  beloved  hus¬ 
band,  canst  thou  be  disconsolate  now  ?  ” 

At  her  words  Aben  Judan’s  countenance 
beamed  with  joy.  His  old  energy  returned  to 
him,  his  gloom  departed. 

“Dearest,”  he  cried,  “thou  hast  made  me 
happy  again.  My  heart  can  safely  confide  in 
thee.” 

Without  delay  Aben  Judan  followed  his 


THE  GIFT  THAT  BLESSED,  1 47 

wife’s  suggestion,  and  sold  half  of  his  field. 
When  the  rabbis  came  he  gave  them  the  sum 
he  had  received,  which  they  gratefully  ac¬ 
cepted,  and  on  taking  their  leave  they  said,  as 
a  parting  benediction:  “May  the  Lord  restore 
to  thee  all  thy  wealth.  Thine  is  the  gift  which 
blesses  !  ” 

Was  it  the  hope  which  these  words  inspired  ? 
Was  it  the  consciousness  of  duty  done  ?  From 
the  moment  he  began  to  work  on  the  little 
ground  remaining  to  him,  his  spirits  rose,  his 
industry  was  unflagging,  he  knew  neither  pain 
nor  anxiety.  And  his  wife  encouraged  him  at 
his  toil — she  had  murmured  a  devout  “Amen  !  ” 
when  the  rabbis  blessed  her  husband,  and  she 
felt  confident  that  their  farewell  words  would 
be  realized. 

One  day,  while  Aben  Judan  was  tilling  his 
field  with  his  ox,  the  animal’s  forefeet  suddenly 
sank  in  an  excavation.  Had  another  misfor¬ 
tune  happened  ?  Was  he  about  to  lose  the 
only  ox  he  possessed  ?  In  haste  he  unyoked 
the  poor  beast,  and  managed  to  extricate  him 
from  the  hole,  but  when  he  examined  it  more 
closely  he  saw  something  shining  far  below. 


148  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

He  resolved  to  descend,  and  enlarged  the  ex¬ 
cavation,  when  what  was  his  amazement  at  find¬ 
ing  an  immense  treasure,  which  one  of  his  an¬ 
cestors  had  deposited  in  troublous  times. 

With  throbbing  heart  he  conveyed  the  treas¬ 
ure  to  his  home.  At  the  threshold  he  told  his 
wife,  amid  her  tears  of  joy,  what  had  occurred. 
Soon  he  was  enabled  to  repurchase  his  former 
possessions,  and  became  again  the  generous 
friend  of  the  poor  and  unfortunate. 

The  months  passed,  and  the  period  again 
arrived  for  the  rabbis  to  visit  the  district  on 
their  charitable  rounds.  They  approached  the 
cabin  where  Aben  Judan  had  lived  when  they 
had  last  met  him,  but  found  him  not.  So  they 
inquired  of  the  villagers  as  to  his  place  of  res¬ 
idence. 

“  Aben  Judan  !  ”  they  rejoined,  why,  who 
can  equal  him  in  goodness  and  wealth  ?  Do 
ye  see  those  flocks  ?  They  are  his.  Do  ye 
mark  those  far-extending  fields,  those  vine¬ 
yards  and  gardens  so  magnificent,  those  splen¬ 
did  buildings  ?  All,  all  belong  to  him,  our 
benefactor.” 

In  a  moment  Aben  Judan  drew  near  and 


THE  GIFT  THA  T  BLESSED. 


149 


greeted  the  rabbis  in  his  cordial  way;  they  re¬ 
turned  his  salutations  as  warmly. 

“  Well,  dear  friends,’'  he  exclaimed,  “  your 
wishes  and  prayers  have  been  heard,  and 
abundantly  fulfilled.  Come  now  with  me, 
and  receive  a  portion  of  the  blessing  ye  be¬ 
stowed  upon  me.  I  shall  try  to  make  full  com¬ 
pensation  for  the  small  subscription  of  the  past 
year.” 

The  rabbis  followed  him  to  his  new  abode, 
which  was  more  spacious  than  his  dwelling  in 
his  early  days  of  good  fortune,  and  there  they 
were  greeted  by  his  wife,  and  well  enter¬ 
tained.  On  parting,  Aben  Judan  gave  them  a 
present  for  the  poor  larger  than  he  had  ever 
contributed  before. 

“Have  I  made  amends,”  he  asked,  “for 
last  year’s  humble  offering  }  ” 

“  We  have  a  secret  to  tell  thee,”  one  of  the 
rabbis  answered.  “  Here  is  a  list  of  last  year’s 
gifts,  and,  although  many  gave  larger  sums, 
thine  is  placed  at  the  head.  We  knew  that 
thy  poverty,  not  thy  soul,  made  the  amount 
small.  And  yet  it  was  thy  gift  which 
blessed.” 


I  50  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

“  Praise  me  not,  dear  friends,”  Aben  Judan 
replied.  “  Does  it  not  say  in  Holy  Writ,  ‘  Thou 
shalt  not  appear  before  the  Eternal  with  empty 
hands.  According  as  the  Lord  thy  God  has 
blessed  thee,  shalt  thou  give  to  the  poor.  *  ” 


IN  THE  SWEAT  OF  THY  BROW. 


HE  spirit  of  the  Talmud  is  the  spirit  of 


work  and  worship.  Both  were  insisted 
upon :  pickaxe  as  well  as  psalm.  The  early 
settlers  in  New  England,  who  sowed  their  corn 
with  one  eye  on  their  implement  of  husbandry 
and  the  other  on  the  implement  of  war;  Crom¬ 
well’s  men,  who  consulted  their  prayer-books 
as  often  as  their  muskets — these  were  kindred 
in  character  to  the  olden  rabbis.  They  could 
fight,  could  sow,  could  weave,  could  mend 
sails  or  shoes,  and  were  adepts  in  every  vari¬ 
ety  of  trade  and  handiwork,  and  could  join  just 
as  stoutly  in  prayer  and  benediction,  in  earnest 
study  and  profound  research.  They  were 
trained  in  a  capital  school  —  that  of  human  ex¬ 
perience;  and  if  reading,  travel,  observation, 
suffering,  did  not  sharpen  their  sagacity,  many 
were  hereditary  artificers,  men  and  women 


152 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


whose  sires  had  developed  their  taste  and  skill 
in  connection  with  the  building  and  furnishing 
of  the  Tabernacle  and  Temple.  They  were 
no  nerveless  ecclesiastics  or  pious  weaklings. 
Their  atmosphere  was  that  of  the  workshop, 
not  of  the  confessional.  The  synagogue  was 
a  school  and  assembly  as  well  as  prayer¬ 
meeting. 

The  proverb  is  the  mirror  of  a  nation’s 
thought,  and  reflects  unerringly  the  national 
trait  and  custom.  Rabbinical  sayings  prove 
that  the  rabbis  regarded  all  work  as  sacred. 
They  preached  the  holiness  of  labor  ages  be¬ 
fore  Carlyle,  and  with  more  sincerity,  for  he 
labored  with  his  pen  alone;  but  they  took  part 
in  the  conflicts  of  history,  fought  and  labored 
as  well  as  thought  and  studied.  As  in  “  The 
Courtship  of  Miles  Standish,”  it  could  be  said 
of  them.  You  are  a  writer  and  I  am  a  fighter, 
but  here  is  a  fellow  who  could  both  write  and 
fight,  and  in  both  was  equally  skillful.” 

It  is  a  saying  of  Rabbi  Joshua  ben  Levi  that 
when  God  spoke  to  Adam  the  words,  “  Thorns 
and  thistles  will  grow  for  you,”  tears  gushed 
from  his  eyes,  and  he  said,  Shall  I  then  eat 


IN  THE  SWEAT  OF  THY  BROW.  I  53 

with  my  ass  from  one  crib?”  Quickly  God 
replied,  “In  the  sweat  of  thy  countenance 
shalt  thou  eat  bread.”  Then  Adam  was  soothed. 
His  soul  was  comforted  in  its  affliction.  He 
saw  in  labor  compensation  and  consolation  for 
life's  bitterness  and  sin.  The  earth  might  be 
cursed  for  his  disobedience,  but  the  fruits  of 
his  industry  would  sweeten  the  struggle  for 
existence.  “Cover  dead  cattle  on  the  public 
road  and  take  thy  pay  and  think  not,  ‘  I  am 
a  great  man  or  priest,  and  the  work  is  des¬ 
picable  to  me’”  —  so  reads  a  passage  in  the 
Talmud.  No  work  is  to  be  despised  if  it  saves 
one  from  mendicancy.  “  Great  is  labor,”  runs 
another  Talmudic  saying,  “  lor  it  honors  its 
master.”  “  God  did  not  permit  His  glory  to 
rest  upon  Israel,”  says  Rabbi  Tarphon,  “until 
it  had  accomplished  a  work.”  It  is  stated  (Ex. 
XXV.  8),  “Ye  shall  erect  me  a  sanctuary,  and 
then  I  shall  dwell  in  your  midst.^  “If  there 
are  seven  years  of  famine,”  reads  another  rab¬ 
binical  saying,  “  it  enters  not  the  laborer’s  and 
artisan’s  door.” 

Once  a  certain  Simeon,  a  man  of  some  ca¬ 
pacity,  who  dug  cisterns  and  wells  for  a  liveli- 


J54 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


hood,  accosted  Johanan  ben  Sakkai  with  the 
unflattering  remark:  “  I  am  as  great  as  thou.’'  , 
“How  so.?”  rejoined  the  rabbi,  somewhat 
amused.  “  Because  I  busy  myself  as  much  as 
thou  dost  with  the  necessities  of  the  commu¬ 
nity.  For  instance,”  he  continued,  “  if  any  one 
comes  to  thee  to  consult  upon  some  legal  or 
religious  question,  thou  sayest,  ‘  Drink  from 
this  well,  for  its  waters  are  pure  and  cold.  .  . 
Simeon’s  logic  was  clear  and  unanswerable. 
If  the  well  and  the  bath  had  not  been  con¬ 
structed,  how  could  the  rabbi’s  commands  be 
executed  ?  Hence  the  artisan  is  as  necessary 
as  the  sage  for  the  observance  of  the  law,  and 
must  be  placed  upon  the  same  moral  plane. 

Although  the  rabbis  say,  “Who  teaches  no 
trade  to  his  son  teaches  him  to  steal,”  different 
views  obtained  among  them  on  the  question 
of  uniting  study  and  labor.  The  general  eth¬ 
ical  principle  was  laid  down  that  not  theory 
but  practice  was  the  chief  requisite,  as  they 
wished  to  guard  against  hypocrisy  and  formal¬ 
ism.  But  it  was  held  by  some,  for  example 
Simon  ben  Jochai,  that  heavy  manual  labor 
might  be  performed  by  slaves,  so  as  to  allow 


IN  THE  S  WE  A  T  OF  THY  BRO  W.  I  5  5 

Israelites  more  time  for  study.  Ishmael  took 
the  opposite  view.  He  interpreted  the  pas¬ 
sage,  “  Thou  shalt  gather  thy  grain”  (Deut.  xi. 
14),  to  mean  that  study  and  manual  labor  were 
to  be  united,  each  in  its  own  time  and  manner. 
Rabbi  Ishmael  gained  the  day;  his  explana¬ 
tion  found  acceptance;  and  those  who  acted  as 
he  did,  the  Talmud  further  relates,  succeeded, 
while  those  who  acted  as  Simon  ben  Jochai, 
failed. 

There  was  abundant  reason  for  the  remark 
of  Rabbi  Nehorai :  “  I  let  go  all  the  employ¬ 
ments  in  the  universe  and  teach  my  son  noth¬ 
ing  but  the  law.”  He  did  not  mean,  perhaps, 
to  despise  useful  labor,  but  desired  rather  to 
express  his  reverence  for  the  Law,  to  which 
Israel  owed  so  much,  and  in  whose  study  it 
forgot  every  privation  and  suffering.  His  col¬ 
leagues,  however,  were  wiser  and  not  less  rev¬ 
erent  when  they  placed  law  and  labor  on  the 
same  level,  in  the  beautiful  thought  which  has 
been  handed  down  by  the  sages  of  Jamnia  : 
“  I  am  a  creature  of  God  and  my  neighbor  the 
same;  my  work  is  in  the  city,  his  in  the  field. 
I  rise  early  to  my  work,  and  he  rises  early  to 


156  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

his.  As  he  does  not  boast  of  his  work,  I  do 
not  boast  of  mine.  If  you  think  I  achieve 
much  and  he  little,  we  have  learned,  ‘  One  who 
achieves  little  is  as  one  who  achieves  much,  if 
only  his  heart  be  heavenward  !  ’  ”  Not  a  bad 
text  that  for  translation  into  life  !  It  reminds 
one  of  Tennyson’s  Sir  Galahad,  whose  work 
prospered  because  his  heart  was  pure. 

The  older  rabbis  not  only  preached  the  bless¬ 
ings  of  industry,  but  they  belonged  largely  to 
the  industrial  classes.  The  spirit  of  their  teach¬ 
ings  is  aptly  illustrated  in  the  incident  told  of 
Abnemos,  the  weaver,  who  asked  Abba  Joseph, 
an  architect,  a  religious  question,  just  as  the 
latter  was  engaged  in  the  scaffolding  of  a  bal¬ 
cony.  But  Abba  Joseph  refused  to  descend 
and  waste  his  time  in  idle  discussion,  as  he  was 
a  day  laborer.  Joshua  ben  Hananya,  one  of 
the  most  famous  of  his  generation,  was  one  day 
visited  by  Gamaliel,  who  wished  to  be  recon¬ 
ciled  to  him,  as  they  had  exchanged  words  on 
a  question  of  law.  When  Gamaliel  entered,  he 
exclaimed:  “From  the  walls  of  thy  house, 
blackened  and  dust- covered,  men  can  tell  that 
thou  art  a  blacksmith.”  Joshua,  fancying  that 


IN  THE  S  WE  A  T  OF  THY  BRO  W.  1 5  7 


Gamaliel,  who  was  a  rabbi  of  great  wealth,  had 
come  to  mock  his  lowly  occupation,  replied 
with  considerable  heat:  “Woe  to  the  genera¬ 
tion  whose  leader  thou  art !  woe  to  the  ship 
whose  helmsman  thou  art !  for  thou  knowest 
not  the  poverty  of  the  scholars  and  in  what 
anxiety  they  live.”  As  little  ashamed  of  his 
trade  was  the  son  of  Illai,  who  used  to  carry 
into  the  school-house  the  cask  he  made  —  he 
was  a  cooper — and  seated  upon  it  gave  instruc¬ 
tions  to  his  pupils. 

Varied  indeed  were  the  occupations  of  the  rab¬ 
bis  of  the  Talmud.  Bar  Adah  was  a  surveyor; 
the  illustrious  Hillel  was  a  woodsplitter.  Agri¬ 
culture  was  a  favorite  with  many.  There  were 
shoemakers  not  a  few, and  tailors, bakers,  basket- 
makers,  carpenters,  cattle-dealers,  millers,  dy¬ 
ers,  in  good  numbers;  Abba  Saul  was  latterly  a 
grave-digger,  but  at  first  a  wine-dealer.  He  was 
so  conscientious  in  trade  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
retain  the  lees  in  a  cask,  which,  he  claimed,  be¬ 
longed  to  the  purchaser.  He  collected  a  large 
quantity  and  brought  it  to  the  Temple  treasurers 
in  Jerusalem.  Although  they  accounted  the  lees 
as  his  property,  he  would  make  no  use  of  it.  Up- 


158  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

on  his  death-bed  he  would  stretch  forth  his  hand 
and  exclaim,  “This  hand  was  righteous  in 
measuring.”  When  Huna  was  asked  to  act  as 
judge,  he  said,  “  Get  a  man  who  will  draw 
water  in  my  stead  and  I  will  act  as  judge.”  He 
was  a  poor  farmer,  and  once,  returning  from  his 
little  plot  of  ground,  with  spade  on  his  shoulder, 
he  was  met  by  the  wealthy  Hama,  who  wished 
to  carry  the  spade.  But  Huna  would  not  allow 
it,  and  continued  on  his  way  unconcerned. 
Hassda  was  a  brewer,  and  grew  so  wealthy 
that  he  built  an  academy  at  Sura. 

Certain  occupations  were  looked  upon  with 
disfavor,  if  not  directly  prohibited:  donkey  and 
camel-drivers,  sailors,  mud-collectors,  petty 
merchants  and  shepherds.  Trades,  such  as 
those  of  weavers,  perfumers,  tanners,  bathers, 
washers,  and  wool-carders,  were  not  supposed 
to  add  to  one’s  reputation.  It  was  Judah  the 
Holy — the  only  one  among  the  rabbis  to  re¬ 
ceive  the  title  —  who  said  :  “  There  is  no  trade 
which  will  disappear  from  the  world;  happy  is 
he  who  has  seen  practiced  by  his  parents  a 
beautiful  and  respected  trade;  and  happy  is  he 
who  has  inherited  no  disreputable  occupation.” 


IN  THE  SWEAT  OF  THY  BROW,  I  59 

Rabbi  Meir  taught:  “  One  should  strive  to  teach 
his  son  an  easy  and  cleanly  industry.  Let  us 
pray  to  Him  to  whom  belong  wealth  and 
.goods,  for  in  every  trade  there  is  as  much 
wealth  as  poverty.  But  neither  poverty  nor 
wealth  depends  upon  the  work ;  far  more 
they  depend  upon  the  worth  and  merit  of  the 
worker.” 

Although  trade-guilds,  in  the  modern  sense, 
did  not  exist  in  Talmudic  times,  a  spirit  of 
association  prevailed.  Certain  occupations  in 
connection  with  the  Temple  service  were  he¬ 
reditary,  and  the  authorities  had  to  tolerate 
the  monopoly;  as  the  workmen  they  once 
brought  from  Alexandria  for  the  purpose  were 
found  unskillful  and  they  had  to  double  the 
wages  of  the  original  artisans.  The  copper¬ 
smiths  had  a  separate  synagogue  and  cem¬ 
etery  in  Jerusalem.  Insurance  companies 
flourished.  In  the  great  synagogue  at  Alex¬ 
andria,  famous  for  its  size  and  splendor, 
the  various  trades  were  grouped  together  — 
gold,  silver,  copper,  and  blacksmiths  and  weav¬ 
ers.  When  a  poor  man  entered,  the  Talmud 
distinctly  states,  he  recognized  his  fellow-work- 


l60  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

men  and  turned  to  them,  receiving  food  for 
himself  and  family. 

The  rabbis  were  so  deeply  imbued  with  the 
necessity  of  work  that  in  their  views  of  the  De¬ 
ity  they  regarded  Him  as  a  master-mechanic 
or  employer.  “  The  day  is  short,”  so  reads 
one  of  their  familiar  sayings,  “the  work  much, 
the  workmen  lazy,  the  reward  great,  and  the 
Master  urgent.  Yet  not  like  slaves  are  we  to 
work,  in  the  hope  of  reward.  We  are  to  work 
rather  for  work’s  sake  alone,  with  the  fear  of 
Heaven  upon  us;  that  is,  with  reverence  for  the 
Deity.”  This  was  the  rabbinical  ideal  in  those 
distant  centuries  ;  thus  did  they  labor,  taking 
no  pay  for  their  services  as  teachers  of  the  con¬ 
gregation.  They  taught  what  they  wanted  the 
people  to  know,  not  what  the  people  wanted 
them  to  say. 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER. 


I. 


REAT  was  the  alarm  in  the  palace  of 
Rome,  which  soon  spread  throughout 
the  entire  city.  The  Empress  had  lost  her 
costly  diadem,  and  it  could  not  be  found. 
They  searched  in  every  direction,  but  it  was  all 
in  vain.  Half  distracted,  for  the  mishap  boded 
no  good  to  her  or  her  house,  the  Empress  re* 
doubled  her  exertions  to  regain  her  precious 
possession,  but  without  result.  As  a  last  re¬ 
source  it  was  proclaimed  in  the  public  streets  : 
“  The  Empress  has  lost  a  priceless  diadem. 
Whoever  restores  it  within  thirty  days  shall  re¬ 
ceive  a  princely  reward.  But  he  who  delays, 
and  brings  it  after  thirty  days,  shall  lose  his 
head.” 

In  those  times  all  nationalities  flocked  tow¬ 
ard  Rome;  all  classes  and  creeds  could  be 


i62 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS, 


met  in  its  stately  halls  and  crowded  thorough¬ 
fares.  Among  the  rest  was  a  rabbi,  a  learned 
sage  from  the  East,  who  loved  goodness,  and 
lived  a  righteous  life,  in  the  stir  and  turmoil  of 
the  Western  world.  It  chanced  one  night  as 
he  was  strolling  up  and  down,  in  busy  medita¬ 
tion,  beneath  the  clear,  moonlit  sky,  he  saw  the 
diadem  sparkling  at  his  feet.  He  seized  it 
quickly,  brought  it  to  his  dwelling,  where  he 
guarded  it  carefully  until  the  thirty  days  had 
expired,  when  he  resolved  to  return  it  to  the 
owner. 

He  proceeded  to  the  palace,  and,  undismayed 
at  sight  of  long  lines  of  soldiery  and  officials, 
asked  for  an  audience  with  the  Empress. 

“What  dost  thou  mean  by  this.?”  she  in¬ 
quired,  when  he  told  her  his  story  and  gave 
her  the  diadem.  “  Why  didst  thou  delay  un¬ 
til  this  hour .?  Dost  thou  know  the  penalty .? 
Thy  head  must  be  forfeited.” 

“  I  delayed  until  now,”  the  rabbi  answered 
calmly,  “  so  that  thou  mightst  know  that  I 
return  thy  diadem,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  re¬ 
ward,  still  less  out  of  fear  of  punishment ;  but 
solely  to  comply  with  the  Divine  command 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER.  1 63 

not  to  withhold  from  another  the  property 
which  belongs  to  him.” 

“  Blessed  be  thy  God  !  ”  the  Empress  an¬ 
swered,  and  dismissed  the  rabbi  without 
further  reproof ;  for  had  he  not  done  right  for 
right’s  sake  ? 

II. 

A  certain  father  was  doubly  blessed — he  had 
reached  a  good  old  age,  and  had  ten  sons. 
One  day  he  called  them  to  his  side,  and  after 
repeated  expressions  of  affection,  told  them 
that  he  had  acquired  a  fortune  by  industry  and 
economy,  and  would  give  them  one  hundred 
gold  pieces  each  before  his  death,  so  that  they 
might  begin  business  for  themselves,  and  not 
be  obliged  to  wait  until  he  had  passed  away. 
It  happened,  however,  that,  soon  after,  he  lost 
a  portion  of  his  property,  much  to  his  regret, 
and  had  only  nine  hundred  and  fifty  gold  pieces 
left.  So  he  gave  one  hundred  to  each  of  his 
nine  sons.  When  his  youngest  son,  whom  he 
loved  most  of  all,  asked  naturally  what  was  to 
be  his  share,  the  father  replied: 

“  My  son,  I  promised  to  give  each  of  thy 


164  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

brothers  one  hundred  gold  pieces.  I  shall 
keep  my  word  to  them.  I  have  fifty  left. 
Thirty  I  shall  reserve  for  my  funeral  expenses, 
and  twenty  will  be  thy  portion.  But  under¬ 
stand  this — I  possess,  in  addition,  ten  friends, 
whom  I  give  over  to  thee  as  compensation 
for  the  loss  of  the  eighty  gold  pieces.  Believe 
me,  they  are  worth  more  than  all  the  gold  and 
silver.” 

The  youth  tenderly  embraced  his  parent,  and 
assured  him  that  he  was  content,  such  was  his 
confidence  and  affection.  In  a  few  days  the 
father  died,  and  the  nine  sons  took  their  money, 
and  without  a  thought  of  their  youngest  brother, 
and  the  small  amount  he  had  received,  fol¬ 
lowed  each  his  own  fancy.  But  the  youngest 
son,  although  his  portion  was  the  least,  resolved 
to  heed  his  father’s  words,  and  hold  fast  to 
the  ten  friends.  When  a  short  time  had  elapsed 
he  prepared  a  simple  feast,  went  to  the  ten 
friends  of  his  father,  and  said  to  them  :  “  My 
father,  almost  in  his  last  words,  asked  me  to 
keep  you,  his  friends,  in  honor.  Before  I  leave 
this  place  to  seek  my  fortune  elsewhere,  will 
you  not  share  with  me  a  farewell  meal,  and 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER.  165 

aid  me  thus  to  comply  with  his  dying  re¬ 
quest  ?  ” 

The  ten  friends,  stirred  by  his  earnestness 
and  cordiality,  accepted  his  invitation  with 
pleasure,  and  enjoyed  the  repast,  although  they 
were  used  to  richer  fare.  When  the  moment 
for  parting  arrived,  however,  one  of  them  rose 
and  spoke  :  “  My  friends,  it  seems  to  me  that 
of  all  the  sons  of  our  dear  friend  that  has  gone, 
the  youngest  alone  is  mindful  of  his  father’s 
friendship  for  us,  and  reverences  his  memory. 
Let  us,  then,  be  true  friends  to  him,  for  his  own 
sake  as  well,  and  provide  for  him  a  generous 
sum,  that  he  may  begin  business  here,  and  not 
be  forced  to  live  among  strangers.” 

The  proposal,  so  unexpected  and  yet  so 
merited,  was  received  with  applause.  The 
youth,  proud  of  their  friendship,  soon  became 
a  prosperous  merchant,  who  never  forgot  that 
faithful  friends  were  more  valuable  than  gold 
or  silver,  and  left  an  honored  name  to  his  de¬ 
scendants. 

III. 

There  lived  once  a  very  wealthy  man,  who 
cared  little  for  money,  except  as  a  means  for 


1 66  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

helping  others.  He  used  to  adopt  a  peculiar 
plan  in  his  method  of  charitable  relief.  He  had 
three  boxes  made  for  the  three  different 
classes  of  people  whom  he  desired  to  assist. 
In  one  box  he  put  gold  pieces,  which  he  dis¬ 
tributed  among  artists  and  scholars,  for  he  hon¬ 
ored  knowledge  and  learning  as  the  highest 
possession.  In  the  second  box  he  placed  silver 
pieces  for  widows  and  orphans,  for  whom  his 
sympathies  were  readily  awakened.  In  the 
third  were  copper  coins  for  the  general  poor 
and  beggars — no  one  was  turned  away  from 
his  dwelling  without  some  gift,  however 
small. 

That  the  man  was  beloved  by  all,  need  hardly 
be  said.  He  rejoiced  that  he  was  enabled  to 
do  so  much  good,  retained  his  modest  bearing, 
and  continued  to  regard  his  wealth  as  only  an 
incentive  to  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind, 
without  distinction  of  creed  or  nationality. 
Unhappily,  his  wife  was  just  the  opposite.  She 
rarely  gave  food  or  raiment  to  the  poor,  and 
felt  angry  at  her  husband’s  liberality,  which 
she  considered  shameless  extravagance. 

The  day  came  when  in  the  pressure  of  vari- 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER, 


167 


ous  duties  he  had  to  leave  his  house,  and  could 
not  return  until  the  morrow.  Unaware  of  his 
sudden  departure,  the  poor  knocked  at  the 
door  as  usual  for  his  kind  gifts;  but  when  they 
found  him  absent,  they  were  about  to  go  away 
or  remain  in  the  street,  being  terrified  at  the 
thought  of  asking  his  wife  for  alms.  Vexed 
at  their  conduct,  she  exclaimed  impetuously : 
“  I  will  give  to  the  poor  according  to  my  hus¬ 
band’s  method.” 

She  seized  the  keys  of  the  boxes,  and  first 
opened  the  box  of  gold.  But  how  great  was  her 
terror  when  she  gazed  at  its  contents — frogs 
jumping  here  and  there.  Then  she  went  to  the 
silver  box,  and  it  was  full  of  ants.  With  troubled 
heart,  she  opened  the  copper  box,  and  it  was 
crowded  with  creeping  bugs.  Loud  then  were 
her  complaints,  and  bitter  her  tears,  at  the  de¬ 
ception,  and  she  kept  her  room  until  her  hus¬ 
band  returned. 

No  sooner  did  the  man  enter  the  room,  an¬ 
noyed  that  so  many  poor  people  were  kept 
waiting  outside,  than  she  asked  him:  “Why 
did  you  give  me  keys  to  boxes  of  frogs,  ants, 
and  bugs,  instead  of  gold,  silver,  and  copper } 


i68 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Was  it  right  thus  to  deceive  your  wife,  and  dis¬ 
appoint  the  poor  ?  ” 

“  Not  so,”  rejoined  her  husband.  “  The  mis¬ 
take  must  be  yours,  not  mine.  I  have  given 
you  the  right  keys.  I  do  not  know  what  you 
have  done  with  them.  Come,  let  me  have 
them.  I  am  guiltless  of  any  deception.”  He 
took  the  keys,  quickly  opened  the  boxes,  and 
found  the  coins  as  he  had  left  them.  “  Ah, 
dear  wife,”  said  he,  when  she  had  regained 
her  composure,  “your  heart,  I  fear,  was  not 
in  the  gift,  when  you  wished  to  give  to  the  poor. 
It  is  the  feeling  that  prompts  us  to  aid,  not  the 
mere  money,  which  is  the  chief  thing  after  all.” 

And  ever  after  her  heart  was  changed.  Her 
gifts  blessed  the  poor  of  the  land,  and  aroused 
their  love  and  reverence. 


IV. 

In  an  Eastern  city  a  lovely  garden  flour¬ 
ished,  whose  beauty  and  luxuriance  awakened 
much  admiration.  It  was  the  owner’s  greatest 
pleasure  to  watch  its  growth,  as  leaf,  flower, 
and  tree  seemed  daily  to  unfold  to  brighter 
bloom.  One  morning,  while  taking  his  usual 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER.  169 

stroll  through  the  well-kept  paths,  he  was  sur¬ 
prised  to  find  that  some  blossoms  were  picked 
to  pieces.  The  next  day  he  noticed  more  signs 
of  mischief,  and  rendered  thus  more  observant 
he  gave  himself  no  rest  until  he  had  discovered 
the  culprit.  It  was  a  little  trembling  bird, 
whom  he  managed  to  capture,  and  was  about 
to  kill  in  his  anger,  when  it  exclaimed:  “Do 
not  kill  me,  I  beg  you,  kind  sir.  I  am  only  a 
wee,  tiny  bird.  My  flesh  is  too  little  to  satisfy 
you.  I  would  not  furnish  one-hundredth  of  a 
meal  to  a  man  of  your  size.  Let  me  free  with¬ 
out  any  hesitation,  and  I  shall  teach  you  some¬ 
thing  that  will  be  of  much  use  to  you  and  your 
friends.” 

“  I  would  dearly  like  to  put  an  end  to  you,” 
replied  the  man,  “  for  you  were  rapidly  putting 
an  end  to  my  garden.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  rid 
the  world  of  such  annoyances.  But  as  I  am 
not  revengeful,  and  am  always  glad  to  learn 
something  useful,  I  shall  set  you  free  this  time.” 
And  he  opened  his  hand  to  give  the  bird  more 
air. 

“  Attention  !  ”  cried  the  bird.  “  Here  are 
three  rules  which  should  guide  you  through 


I  70  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

life,  and  if  you  observe  them  you  will  find  your 
path  made  easier:  Do  not  cry  over  spilt  milk; 
do  not  desire  what  is  unattainable,  and  do  not 
believe  what  is  impossible.” 

The  man  was  satisfied  with  the  advice,  and 
let  the  bird  escape;  but  it  had  scarcely  re¬ 
gained  its  liberty,  when,  from  a  high  tree  op¬ 
posite,  it  exclaimed: 

“  What  a  silly  man  !  The  idea  of  letting  me 
escape  !  If  you  only  knew  what  you  have  lost ! 
But  it  is  too  late  now.” 

“  What  have  I  lost }  ”  the  man  asked,  angrily. 

“  Why,  if  you  had  killed  me,  as  you  intended, 
you  would  have  found  inside  of  me  a  huge 
pearl,  as  large  as  a  goose’s  egg,  and  you  would 
have  been  a  wealthy  man  forever.” 

“  Dear  little  bird,”  the  man  said  in  his  bland¬ 
est  tones;  “sweet  little  bird,  I  will  not  harm 
you.  Only  come  down  to  me,  and  I  will  treat 
you  as  if  you  were  my  own  child,  and  give  you 
fruit  and  flowers  all  day.  I  assure  you  of  this 
most  sacredly.” 

But  the  bird  shook  its  head  sagely,  and  re¬ 
plied:  “What  a  silly  man,  to  forget  so  soon 
the  advice  which  was  given  him  in  all  serious- 


A  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER.  171 

ness.  I  told  you  not  to  cry  over  spilt  milk, 
and  here  you  are,  worrying  over  what  has  hap¬ 
pened.  I  urged  you  not  to  desire  the  unattain¬ 
able,  and  now  you  wish  to  capture  me  again. 
And,  finally,  I  asked  you  not  to  believe  what 
is  impossible,  and  you  are  rashly  imagining 
that  I  have  a  huge  pearl  inside  of  me,  when  a 
goose’s  egg  is  larger  than  my  whole  body. 
You  ought  to  learn  your  lessons  better  in 
the  future,  if  you  would  become  wise,”  added 
the  bird,  as  with  another  twist  of  its  head  it 
flew  away,  and  was  lost  in  the  distance. 


THE  EXPIATION. 


T  T  was  a  happy,  buoyant  maiden  who  was 
rapidly  walking  along  the  fragrant  coun¬ 
try  paths  on  some  errand  for  her  parents,  per¬ 
haps,  or  merely  for  the  exercise  in  the  pleasant 
afternoon  air.  Bright  visions  must  have  danced 
across  her  fancy,  for  her  eyes  were  shining, 
and  she  laughed  repeatedly  in  the  gladsome 
unconsciousness  of  youth  and  health. 

“How  thirsty  I  am!”  she  said  to  herself, 
pausing  for  a  moment,  and  gazing  around.  “If 
I  only  had  a  cooling  draught  of  water  I  Why, 
there  is  a  well  I  How  fortunate,  indeed  !  I 
shall  take  a  few  mouthfuls  anyway,  and  rest 
awhile  in  the  shade.  It  looks  so  inviting  there.” 

She  hastened  to  the  well  by  the  wayside — 
an  everlasting  boon  to  the  traveler  in  the  Ori¬ 
ent — and  stooped  over  in  her  eagerness,  hold¬ 
ing  on  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  which  stood 


THE  EXPIATION. 


173 


sentinel  on  the  spot.  Suddenly  it  snapped  un¬ 
der  the  pressure,  and  the  girl  was  precipitated 
below.  Happily,  the  broken  bough,  which  fell 
with  her,  saved  her  from  instant  death;  for  it 
became  wedged  in  the  well,  and  gave  her  a 
slight  foothold  just  above  the  surface  of  the 
water. 

When  she  recovered  consciousness  from  the 
shock  of  the  fall,  the  afternoon  had  faded  into 
eve,  and  the  few  stars  that  glittered  above  her 
head  told  her  that  night  was  rapidly  approach¬ 
ing.  The  merriment  had  forsaken  her  now — 
her  smiles  and  laughter  belonged  to  the  re¬ 
mote  past.  Her  thoughts  were  of  her  home 
and  her  parents,  the  general  anxiety  that  would 
be  felt  at  her  sudden  disappearance,  and  the 
abrupt  ending  of  her  young  life.  What  had  she 
done  to  deserve  so  sad  a  fate  }  Was  it  because 
she  had  been  too  happy  t  But  perhaps  her 
absence  would  be  discovered,  and  people 
would  search  for  her,  and  find  her  at  last. 
Regaining  her  courage,  after  a  silent  prayer, 
her  voice  broke  the  stillness,  and  her  appeals 
for  help,  shouted  with  all  her  young  strength, 
were  reechoed  again  and  again.  Then  she 


174 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


waited  for  some  response,  but  nothing  seemed 
to  stir,  save  the  birds  which  darted  across  the 
well,  and  the  trees  which  swayed  to  and  fro. 
No  intelligible  sound  came  to  her  but  the  echo 
of  her  voice,  which  she  hardly  recognized  at 
first,  so  despairing  was  its  tone.  Her  anxious 
heart-beats  came  loud  and  fast.  Soon  the 
stars  shone  out  still  more  clearly,  as  if  mid¬ 
night  were  at  hand,  and  the  songs  of  the  dawn 
were  next  to  be  heard.  How  endless  was  the 
weary  waiting  !  She  resigned  herself  to  the 
inevitable — the  branch  at  her  feet  seemed  to 
be  giving  way,  and  she  was  slipping  slowly 
to  her  fate.  There  was  no  hope.  The  end 
had  come.  Again  her  voice  rang  out  in  her 
despair. 

“  Who’s  there  }  ”  came  a  cry  from  above. 

“  Save  me,  save  me  !  ”  shouted  the  maiden 
in  response,  while  new  hope  gave  strength  to 
her  utterance.  “  Save  me  !  I  am  down  in  the 
well.  Be  quick  !  My  support  is  giving  way.” 

In  a  few  minutes,  after  vigorous  effort,  a 
strong  arm  had  lifted  her  from  her  perilous  po¬ 
sition,  and  they  saw  each  other  for  the  first 
time,  the  youth  and  the  maid.  She  told  her 


THE  EXP  I  A  TION. 


175 


story  tremblingly,  and  every  word  she  uttered 
only  increased  his  interest  and  aroused  his 
sympathy.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen  one 
so  good  and  fair,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal 
his  admiration. 

“Say  no  more,”  she  exclaimed;  “you  are 
strong  and  brave,  and  have  rescued  me  from 
death.  My  heart  goes  strongly  toward  you. 
But  this  is  no  time  and  place  for  further  talk. 
I  am  a  poor  Jewish  girl  of  lowly  parentage.  If 
you  would  woo  me,  come  to  my  house,  and 
see  my  father  and  mother,  as  is  the  custom  in 
Israel.  And  now,  good  youth,  let  me  hasten 
to  them.  They  are  frantic,  perhaps,  at  my  long 
absence.  Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks  for  your 
brave  deed  !  ” 

“  I  am  of  a  priestly  family  in  Israel,”  he  re¬ 
joined,  proudly,  “  and  would  marry  you,  if  you 
would  give  your  consent.  Let  me  first  have  a 
pledge  from  you,  before  I  ask  your  parents.” 

“Do  you  wish  a  pledge  of  our  betrothal,^” 
she  replied,  half  roguishly.  “Why,  here  are 
witnesses.  Let  that  weasel,  which  is  running 
across  the  path  and  hears  our  talk,  be  a  witness. 
Let  the  well,  from  which  you  rescued  me,  be  a 


I  76  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

witness.  And  if  you  need  a  third  witness,  look 
at  that  bright  star  ahead  of  us.  It  shone  on 
me  so  friendly  when  I  was  in  peril.  Let  the 
star  there  be  our  third  witness.”  And  so  they 
parted — he,  to  his  duties  and  rich  possessions; 
she,  to  her  humble  abode.  Would  they  ever 
meet  again  ? 

A  week  had  elapsed  since  her  deliverance 
from  the  well.  Each  day  she  expected  the 
youth,  but  he  never  came.  She  tried  to  ex¬ 
cuse  him — he  was  busy,  no  doubt,  and  lived 
at  some  distance,  but  his  neglect  was  strange. 
A  month  glided  by,  and  still  no  word  from 
him.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Was  he  faithless  } 
Had  he  forgotten  her  ?  Impossible  !  He  had 
risked  his  life  to  save  hers,  and  the  memory  of 
his  courage  silenced  the  reproaches  which  were 
beginning  to  stir  within  her  at  his  apparent  in¬ 
difference. 

It  was  a  painful  struggle,  as  month  followed 
month  and  year  followed  year.  No  complaint 
was  heard.  She  kept  her  sorrow  to  herself, 
but  she  refused  to  mingle  in  the  society  of  her 
little  village.  The  attentions  that  her  beauty 


THE  EXP  I  A  TION. 


177 


won  grew  distasteful.  Many  suitors  appealed 
for  her  hand,  but  they  were  dismissed  in  quick 
succession.  Her  parents  were  surprised  and 
grieved,  but  that  was  of  no  avail.  They  could 
not  understand  her  mysterious  behavior,  and  she 
would  not  explain  it,  although  she  loved  them 
passionately.  She  must  be  ill  —  perhaps  her 
reason  was  giving  way,  due  to  her  accident  at 
the  well. 

So  the  rumor  spread  that  her  mind  was  af¬ 
fected;  and  only  too  glad  that  she  was  now  in 
no  danger  of  being  sought  in  marriage,  she 
strove  to  confirm  the  report  by  eccentricities 
of  manner  and  dress,  which  aroused  the  gen¬ 
eral  compassion  of  the  neighborhood.  Would 
the  people  have  been  as  compassionate  if  they 
had  known  the  truth,  and  how  in  the  silence  of 
her  room  she  wept  bitter  tears  as  she  thought 
of  her  lover  ?  But  she  did  not  lose  her  faith. 
He  would  return  to  her  and  woo  her  as  he  had 
promised.  Were  there  not  three  witnesses  of 
their  betrothal  ? 

The  maiden  was  happy  in  her  ignorance  — 
for  the  youth  was  faithless.  He  had  married 
one  of  his  own  rank  and  station,  and  was  sur- 


I  78  STOJRIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

rounded  by  every  luxury,  while  a  laughing 
babe  gladdened  him  and  his  wife.  One  day,  as 
it  was  asleep  in  its  cradle,  the  mother  for  a 
moment  left  the  room  to  perform  some  house¬ 
hold  duty.  When  she  returned,  what  was  her 
horror  to  find  the  infant  dead,  its  little  throat 
pierced  by  a  weasel’s  fangs  !  She  never  forgot 
the  death  of  her  first-born,  and  when  the  sec¬ 
ond  babe  came  she  watched  it  constantly,  as 
if  to  guard  it  from  some  hidden  foe.  It  was  a 
strong,  healthy  boy,  and  grew  rapidly  under 
his  mother’s  tender  care.  She  never  left  him 
—  day  and  night  he  was  with  her.  He  had 
reached  his  third  year  and  his  mother’s  fears 
were  passing  away,  when,  one  afternoon,  he 
ran  out  into  the  garden  unobserved.  Rushing 
to  the  well,  which  was  unguarded,  he  fell  in 
and  was  drowned,  before  his  agonized  parents 
were  aware  of  his  danger. 

A  few  weeks  had  passed.  It  was  early  even¬ 
ing.  The  mother,  whose  fears  had  again  been 
awakened  by  the  sudden  death  of  the  child, 
felt  positive  that  there  was  some  mystery,  which 
her  husband  alone  could  explain. 

“  Husband,”  she  said,  as  they  sat  together 


THE  EXT /AT/OH. 


179 


by  the  open  door,  “what  curse  is  on  thy  life  ? 
Why  have  our  two  babes  been  snatched  from 
us  by  such  dreadful  deaths  ?  Tell  me.  Thou 
knowest  the  reason.  Conceal  nothing  from 
me.  There  has  been  too  much  concealment 
already,  and  my  children  have  paid  the  pen¬ 
alty.”  And  she  wept  aloud  in  her  grief. 

“Nay,  wife,”  he  replied,  “do  not  weep.  It 
makes  my  agony  the  harder  to  bear.” 

“Husband,”  she  repeated,  “thou  wilt  nox 
look  me  straight  in  the  face.  Thy  eyes  avoid 
mine.  Tell  me  the  truth.  Reveal  the  secret, 
I  adjure  thee  by  our  wedded  troth  !  ” 

He  could  not  resist  her  pleading  gaze,  but 
told  her  all.  She  listened  intently  to  the  re¬ 
cital;  not  a  word  escaped  her  notice.  Every 
incident  seemed  photographed  on  her  brain — 
she  saw  the  maiden  in  the  well,  heard  her  cries 
for  help,  joined  in  her  rescue,  and  caught  the 
words  which  plighted  her  to  her  deliverer. 
The  husband  was  reaching  the  end  of  the  story. 
His  tones  grew  fainter  as  he  spoke  of  the  wit¬ 
nesses,  the  weasel,  the  well,  and  the  star. 

“  Oh,  husband  !  ”  she  exclaimed,  pressing  her 
hand  to  her  heart,  “  see  that  bright  star  over- 


i8o 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


head  !  It  is  piercing  me  !  It  has  killed  me  ! 
Thy  sin  has  been  expiated  at  last.  Seek  the 
one  whom  thou  didst  rescue  and  save  her  now 
from  despair  and  death.  Go.  Delay  no  longer.” 
And  she  sank  back  lifeless,  as  the  bright  star 
seemed  to  vanish  in  the  distant  heavens. 

When  the  man  entered  the  village  and  in¬ 
quired  for  the  parents  of  the  maiden,  he  was 
met  by  such  strange  looks  that  he  asked  the 
reason.  They  then  told  him  of  the  girl’s  odd 
behavior  and  how  she  refused  to  see  anybody. 
No  one  seemed  to  understand  the  cause  of  her 
peculiar  illness,  which  had  lasted  some  time. 
Her  parents  had  sought  the  best  medical  ad¬ 
vice,  but  without  avail.  She  regarded  every 
stranger  with  suspicion,  and  resented  all  in¬ 
quiries.  She  kept  to  herself,  and  her  parents 
were  happy  that  she  continued  calm.  She  had 
doubtless  received  some  mental  shock,  and 
they  traced  it  to  her  accident  in  the  well  sev¬ 
eral  years  previously. 

Glad  at  least  to  learn  that  she  was  alive,  and 
rightly  interpreting  her  behavior  as  indicating 
her  loyalty  to  him,  who  was  unworthy  of  her 


THE  EXPIATION.  l8l 

ardent  faith,  he  sought  an  interview  with  her 
parents  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  see  their 
daughter.  At  first  they  were  not  inclined  to 
consent,  not  wishing  to  torture  her  by  permit¬ 
ting  a  stranger  to  enter  her  presence.  He  was, 
however,  so  persistent,  and  spoke  so  confi¬ 
dently  of  his  ability  to  cure  mental  disease, 
with  which  their  daughter  was  afflicted,  that 
they  reluctantly  yielded. 

She  had  not  changed  much.  Her  beauty 
was  still  preserved.  He  recognized  her  at 
once,  but  she  failed  to  see  in  the  cold,  calm 
stranger  the  impassioned  youth  who  had  de¬ 
livered  her  from  death.  He  assumed  a  critical 
attitude,  stood  at  some  distance  from  her,  then 
came  nearer,  and  uttering  in  a  low  voice,  for 
her  alone,  the  words,  “  Three  witnesses  —  star, 
well,  weasel  !  ”  left  the  room  rapidly,  followed 
by  her  parents,  who  were  completely  mysti¬ 
fied  by  his  actions. 

Who  can  attempt  to  describe  her  joy  and 
wonderment  at  the  voice  and  words  }  She  re¬ 
strained  herself  until  she  was  left  alone,  and 
then  her  thanksgiving  was  devout,  while  the 
happy  tears  could  not  be  held  back.  At  last, 


i82 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


at  last,  after  years  of  waiting,  he^  had  come  to 
redeem  his  pledge.  They  were  but  moments, 
not  years  now.  All  doubts  were  removed,  all 
misgivings  set  at  rest.  Her  eyes  beamed  as 
brightly  as  in  her  early  maidenhood,  fresh 
color  came  into  her  cheeks,  her  listlessness  and 
melancholy  left  her,  and  she  was  her  own 
bright  self  once  more. 

Her  parents,  astounded  and  delighted  at  the 
change,  ascribed  everything  to  the  strange 
physician  and  begged  him  to  continue  his' 
visits  until  her  health  was  fully  restored.  He 
gladly  acceded  to  their  request,  and  they  were 
rejoiced  to  note  how  much  stronger  and  happier 
their  daughter  grew,  when  once  his  identity 
was  established  and  she  learned  that  he  loved 
her  as  of  yore. 

A  week  had  passed  and  the  man  felt  that  he 
could  deceive  her  parents  no  longer.  Gather¬ 
ing  courage  from  the  strength  of  her  affection 
and  the  nobility  of  her  character,  he  told  them 
that  he  had  a  secret  to  impart,  and  revealed 
his  history.  He  did  not  spare  himself  and  his 
faithlessness.  When  he  spoke  of  his  wife  and 
his  children,  they  could  not  restrain  their 


THE  EXPIATION. 


183 


tears.  He  related  the  story  of  their  deaths, 
and  wondered  why  they  had  suffered  when  he 
was  to  blame.  Then  he  described  his  wife’s 
last  words,  urging  him  to  seek  the  maiden  to 
whom  he  had  plighted  his  troth  and  to  rescue 
her  again  from  despair  which  was  worse  than 
death. 

“You  have  expiated  your  error,  my  son,” 
the  father  said,  deeply  moved.  “  We  cannot 
question  the  ways  of  God’s  providence.  You, 
*  too,  have  suffered.  And  now  you  have  come 
to  make  full  atonement.  Let  my  daughter, 
whom  you  once  so  cruelly  deceived,  decide 
whether  the  expiation  is  complete.”  - 

“  I  have  already  decided,”  she  said,  clasping 
his  hand.  “  He  was  betrothed  to  me  in  right¬ 
eousness  and  in  justice,  in  loving-kindness  and 
mercy.  I  never  lost  my  faith  in  him.  Let 
righteousness  and  mercy,  let  justice  and  lov¬ 
ing-kindness  be  our  witnesses  forever  !  ” 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS. 


TN  a  year  when  prices  were  high,  a  pious 
man  gave  money  to  a  wandering  beggar. 
His  wife,  a  veritable  Xanthippe,  so  upbraided 
him  for  his  act  of  kindness,  that  he  fled  from 
home,  and  spent  the  night — it  was  New  Year’s 
— in  the  graveyard.  There,  in  the  hush  and 
stillness  of  the  hour,  he  heard  the  departed 
souls  of  two  maidens  hold  converse. 

“  Fly  with  me,  dear  sister,”  said  the  one, 
“through  airy  space  to  heaven,  that  we  may 
learn  the  fate  of  the  coming  year.” 

“  How  can  I  leave  the  grave  ?  ”  the  other  re¬ 
plied.  “  I  have  not  been  buried  in  garments 
suited  for  so  long  a  flight.  Go  thou  alone, 
and  let  me  know  what  thou  hearest.” 

Soon  the  maiden’s  soul  returned,  with  the 
Information  that  in  the  coming  year  the  early 
'narvest  would  be  destroyed  by  hail,  but  the 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS.  1 85 

late  harvest  would  prosper.  The  pious  man 
heard  their  talk,  and  as  he  was  a  prudent  far¬ 
mer,  he  acted  accordingly,  making  wise  pro¬ 
vision  for  the  future.  In  the  meanwhile,  he 
and  his  wife  were  on  good  terms  again,  but  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  pass  the  next 
New  Year’s  night  in  the  same  graveyard. 
Again,  in  the  silence  of  the  place,  he  heard 
the  souls  of  the  maidens  in  mysterious  con¬ 
verse,  but  now  their  story  was  reversed.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  coming  year  the  early  harvest  was  to 
flourish,  but  the  late  harvest  would  be  destroyed 
by  a  scorching  wind.  Again,  the  man  knew 
how  to  profit  by  their  colloquy;  and,  while  all 
his  neighbors  complained  of  their  bad  fortune, 
his  crops  were  richly  blessed. 

Now,  the  man’s  wife  possessed  all  the  curios¬ 
ity  of  Bluebeard’s  spouse.  She  asked  her  hus¬ 
band  the  secret  of  his  extraordinary  good  luck, 
and  he  told  her,  with  much  pride.  Filled  with 
the  news — such  a  choice  morsel  was  not  hers 
every  day — she  hastened  to  the  mother  of  the 
maiden  buried  in  such  unsightly  fashion,  and 
reviled  her  for  her  conduct;  then  returned 
home,  thoroughly  self-satisfied.  Once  more 


I  86  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

« 

the  New  Year  arrived,  and  again  the  pious 
man  spent  the  night  in  the  graveyard.  But 
when  a  tremulous  maiden-soul  asked  its  com¬ 
panion  to  accompany  it  through  space,  the 
poor  child  rejoined,  “Let  me  rest!  Let  me 
rest!  The  living  have  heard  what  we  have 
here  spoken  in  secret.”  The  man  strained 
every  nerve;  he  caught  no  other  sound  but  the 
sighing  breeze. 

A  king  had  in  his  garden  a  yawning  pit  of 
great  magnitude.  One  day  he  hired  a  number 
of  workmen  to  fill  it  up.  Some  of  them  went 
to  the  sides  of  the  pit,  and  as  they  saw  its 
depth  they  exclaimed,  “  How  is  it  possible  to 
fill  it.^”  and  they  gave  up  the  work  in  de¬ 
spair.  But  the  others  said,  “  What  matters  it 
how  deep  it  is.^  We  are  engaged  by  the  day, 
and  are  happy  to  have  something  to  do.  Let 
us  be  faithful  in  our  duty,  and  we  will  fill  the 
pit  as  soon  as  we  possibly  can.”  Let  no  man 
say:  “  How  immeasurable  is  the  divine  law  !  it 
is  deeper  than  the  sea;  how  many  statutes  to 
be  performed  !  how  can  we  carry  them  out 
and  obey  every  command }  ”  God  says  to 
man,  “  Thou  art  engaged  by  the  day;  do  the 


A  STRING  OR  PEARLS.  187 

work  which  thou  canst,  and  think  of  naught 
else.” 

A  prince  once  distributed  costly  garments 
among  his  slaves.  The  wise  ones  kept  theirs 
carefully,  but  the  foolish  wore  theirs  even  on 
work-days.  Suddenly  the  prince  summoned 
his  slaves  to  a  special  audience,  and  said:  “I 
wish  to  see  again  the  clothes  which  I  gave 
you.”  The  garments  of  the  wise  slaves  were 
clean,  without  a  fold  or  stain;  but  the  attire  of 
the  foolish  slaves  was  stained  and  spoilt. 
Earnestly  then  rang  out  his  words:  “  Ye  wise 
ones,  take  your  garments  home  and  live  in 
peace.  Ye  foolish  ones,  cast  them  into  the 
fire  to  cleanse  them  !  ”  Let  thy  soul — such  is 
the  meaning  of  the  parable  —  return  to  its 
Maker  as  pure  as  when  given  thee.  God  may 
summon  it  at  any  moment.  Be  ever  ready 
for  the  call. 

As  poetical  is  the  rabbinical  legend  about 
David’s  harp.  The  royal  Psalmist  slept  but 
little;  he  gave  precious  hours  to  the  study  of 
God’s  law.  Over  his  bed  he  hung  his  harp, 
and  at  midnight,  moved  by  the  north  wind,  it 
poured  forth  of  itself  sweet  melody.  Aroused 


i88 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


by  the  sound,  David  sprang  from  his  couch, 
and  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  in  study  and  in 
song.  Could  the  rabbis  have  told  more  im¬ 
pressively  how  the  Psalms  were  the  melody  of 
David’s  soul,  stirred  by  pious  emotion  ? 

To  illustrate  benevolence  as  a  typical  virtue 
of  womankind,  the  story  is  told  of  Rabbi 
Hillel’s  wife,  that  once  a  poor  man  came  to 
her  and  piteously  begged  for  food.  Seeing  his 
famished  state,  she  impulsively  gave  him  all 
that  she  had  on  hand,  and  then  quietly  set  to 
work  to  prepare  a  fresh  meal.  When  dinner 
was  ready,  Hillel  asked  his  wife  the  reason  of 
the  delay.  She  told  him,  unabashed,  what  she 
had  done,  and  her  husband  blessed  her  for  her 
true  piety  and  kindliness. 

The  rabbis  were  not  only  teachers,  but 
traders  as  well,  carrying  on  various  kinds  of 
business  for  their  livelihood.  That  they  were 
not  so  very  close  at  a  bargain,  a  suggestive 
story  would  prove.  A  rabbi,  while  engaged 
in  prayer,  was  approached  by  a  customer  who 
offered  a  certain  price  for  some  goods.  He 
continued  his  devotions  undisturbed.  In  his 
eagerness  the  man  doubled  his  offer,  thinking 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS. 


189 


that  the  rabbi’s  silence  was  due  to  his  being 
dissatisfied  with  the  first  price.  In  the  mean¬ 
time,  the  prayer  came  to  an  end,  and  the  rabbi 
sold  the  goods  at  the  first  price  offered.  He 
was  satisfied  with  it,  and  only  on  account  of  his 
prayers  could  give  no  answer. 

When  Herodotus  told  about  the  ring  of 
Polycrates,  he  hardly  imagined  that  the  Tal¬ 
mud  could  furnish  a  parallel.  The  story  is  a 
practical  argument  in  favor  of  Sabbath  ob¬ 
servance.  There  lived  once  a  righteous  Is¬ 
raelite,  whose  scrupulous  regard  for  the  Sab¬ 
bath  was  widely  known.  It  was  a  day  he 
held  in  such  high  honor  that  he  spared  no  cost 
to  give  it  a  holiday  aspect.  The  Sabbath 
among  the  Jews  was  never  a  day  of  gloomy 
asceticism;  manual  labor  and  needless  exer¬ 
tion  were  forbidden;  but  the  atmosphere  was 
a  bright  and  joyous  one.  In  the  Israelite’s 
vicinity  lived  a  heathen  of  great  wealth.  It 
was  foretold  to  the  latter  that  his  property 
should  fall  into  the  Jew’s  hands.  Determined 
to  thwart  prophecy,  he  sold  all  his  fortune  for 
a  precious  gem,  which  he  sewed  in  his  turban, 
so  that  he  might  always  have  his  property  with 


1 90  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

him.  Once,  while  crossing  a  bridge,  the  breeze 
blew  his  turban  into  the  water,  and  with  it  he 
lost  his  dearly  prized  jewel.  The  next  day  a 
large  fish  was  brought  to  market,  and,  as  the 
Israelite  wished  to  have  it  for  his  Sabbath  meal, 
he  secured  it  at  a  high  price.  On  opening  it, 
the  jewel  was  found,  which  made  him  wealthy 
for  all  time. 

The  special  sanctity  attached  to  the  Sabbath 
is  farther  illustrated  in  a  story  told  of  the  Em¬ 
peror  Antoninus  and  Rabbi  Judah  the  Holy. 
They  were  on  friendly  terms  with  each  other, 
and  one  Sabbath  the  emperor  dined  with  the 
rabbi  and  found  the  cold  food  very  appetizing. 
He  chanced  to  eat  at  the  rabbi’s  house  another 
time — it  was  on  a  week  day — and  although  the 
hot  repast  was  varied  and  costly,  this  did  not 
taste  as  well  as  the  other.  “  Wilt  thou  tell 
me,  rabbi,”  the  emperor  asked,  with  a  curiosity 
which  was  excusable  in  the  monarch  of  Rome, 
“what  made  the  cold  food  so  appetizing.^” 
“  There  was  a  certain  spice  used  in  its  prepara¬ 
tion,”  the  rabbi  replied,  “which  is  called  Sab¬ 
bath,  and  gives  every  dish  a  pleasant  flavor.” 
“  Let  me  see  it,”  the  emperor  answered  quick- 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS.  I9I 

ly.  “  I  would  very  much  like  to  have  it  used 
in  my  kitchen.”  “  This  precious  spice,”  said 
the  rabbi,  “  is  only  to  be  used  by  those  who 
keep  the  Sabbath  day  holy.” 

A  fair  specimen  of  rabbinical  fancy  is  the 
following.  The  world  contains  ten  hard 
things.  The  mountain  is  hard  ;  iron  pierces 
it.  Iron  is  hard  ;  fire  melts  it.  Fire  is  hard  ; 
water  extinguishes  it.  Water  is  hard  ;  the 
cloud  carries  it.  The  cloud  is  hard  ;  the  air 
disperses  it.  The  air  is  hard  ;  man  endures  it. 
Man  is  hard  ;  care  bends  him.  Care  is  hard  ; 
wine  banishes  it.  Wine  is  hard  ;  sleep  con¬ 
quers  it.  But  death  is  harder  than  all  things  ; 
and  still  Solomon  maintains,  “  Benevolence 
rescues  from  death.” 

The  arrival  of  the  king  was  anxiously  awaited 
in  a  city.  The  streets  were  full  of  people,  all 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  ruler’s  face. 
A  blind  rabbi,  Sheshet  by  name,  mingled  in 
the  jostling  crowd.  Next  to  him  stood  a  man 
who  said  scornfully,  “  Whole  pitchers  may  go 
to  the  well  —  what  do  broken  ones  want  ?  ” 
The  rabbi  observed  that  the  words  were  ap¬ 
plied  to  him  on  account  of  his  blindness,  and 


192 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


answered  softly,  “  Be  calm,  my  friend  ;  you 
will  soon  be  convinced  that  I  see  better  than 
you.”  Amid  great  noise  a  procession  ap¬ 
proached.  “  The  king  comes,”  the  man  ex¬ 
claimed.  “  No,”  said  the  rabbi,  “  that  is  not 
the  king.”  A  second  train  of  men  drew  near, 
amid  the  wildest  uproar.  “  Now  it  is  the 
king,”  said  the  man,  confidently.  “No,”  re¬ 
plied  the  rabbi,  “again  you  are  mistaken.”  At 
last  a  third  procession  approached  and  a 
solemn  stillness  prevailed.  “  Now  the  king 
has  arrived,”  said  the  rabbi,  and  it  was  truly 
so.  “  How  can  you  know  this  in  your  blind¬ 
ness  .^  ”  asked  the  man,  amazed.  “  An  earthly 
sovereign,”  rejoined  the  rabbi,  “  resembles  the 
heavenly  Monarch.  When  God  appeared  in 
the  wilderness  to  the  prophet  Elijah,  there  were 
storm,  fire,  and  earthquake.  Yet  in  all  these 
violent  manifestations  of  nature,  the  Deity  ap¬ 
proached  not.  It  was  only  when  a  light 
breeze  stirred  that  the  prophet  heard  the  voice 
of  God.” 

A  rabbi  went  outwalking  with  some  friends, 
and  crossing  a  field  he  stopped  and  pointing  to 
a  beautiful  vineyard,  said,  “  This  was  mine. 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS. 


193 


and  I  sold  it  for  the  poor,  so  that  I  might 
wholly  devote  myself  to  study.”  Going  fur¬ 
ther,  he  pointed  to  a  spacious  field  :  “  This 
too  was  mine,”  he  exclaimed,  “  but  I  sold  it, 
so  as  to  have  no  other  care  than  my  holy 
studies.”  A  few  minutes’  walk  brought  them 
to  another  field.  “  This  was  my  last  posses¬ 
sion,”  he  said,  “  but  I  gave  it  up  so  that  I 
might  have  no  other  thought  than  the  study  of 
the  Law.”  His  friends,  saddened  at  his  words, 
which  they  regarded  as  showing  an  absolute 
want  of  prudence,  replied  :  “What  hast  thou 
preserved  for  thy  old  age.^”  “  Are  you  anx¬ 
ious  on  that  account }  ”  said  he,  smiling.  “  Why, 
I  have  resigned  things  which  are  given  us  only 
for  a  few  days,  for  a  possession  that  will  last 
much  longer.” 

Once  a  sage  met  the  prophet  Elijah  in  the 
crowded  market-place,  and  full  of  curiosity  he 
asked  Elijah  who  of  all  the  bustling  throng 
would  be  saved.  “  None,”  replied  the  prophet, 
slowly.  “  What  !  ”  the  sage  exclaimed,  “  no 
one  of  all  these  people  }  ”  At  this  moment 
two  men  entered  the  street  and  mingled 
with  the  crowd.  They  seemed  in  humble  cir- 


194 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


cumstances  and  no  one  noticed  them  or  bade 
them  greeting.  “These  will  be  saved,”  said 
the  prophet  in  a  low  voice.  The  sage  advanc¬ 
ing  toward  them  asked  :  “  Will  ye  not  kindly 
tell  me  what  is  your  occupation  in  life  }  What 
are  your  virtues  ?  What  are  your  deeds  ” 
“Virtues!  deeds  I  ”  they  replied,  astounded. 
“  In  truth  thou  must  be  confounding  us  with 
somebody  else.  We  are  poor  people  and  live 
by  the  work  of  our  hands.  Our  only  merit  is 
is  that  we  have  merry  hearts.  When  we  meet 
one  who  is  sad,  we  strive  to  chase  away  his 
sorrow.  When  we  learn  of  two  who  are  at 
enmity,  we  step  in  and  try  to  make  peace. 
This  is  our  life-work.”  The  men  soon  were 
lost  in  the  crowd,  but  the  sage  did  not  for¬ 
get  their  words. 

When  the  Egyptians  sank  into  the  sea,  the 
angels  prepared  to  sing  a  hymn  of  joy.  Then 
God  spoke  in  His  anger  :  “My creatures  have 
sunk  into  the  sea,  and  ye  would  sing  a 
triumphant  song  1  ”  When  the  hour  for  hea¬ 
thenism’s  fall  draws  nigh,  so  as  to  make  room 
for  Israel’s  triumph.  Heaven  will  exclaim, 
“Both  are  my  creatures:  shall  I  destroy  one 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS.  1 95 

for  the  other  ?  ”  The  Lord  assured  Moses  : 
“  Israelite  or  heathen,  man  or  woman,  servant 
or  freeman,  all  are  equal  in  my  sight;  every 
good  deed  has  its  reward.” 

One  day  Hillel  was  seen  by  some  of  his  dis¬ 
ciples  walking  rapidly  along  the  road.  “  Where 
are  you  going  ?  ”  they  asked.  “  I  am  going  to 
perform  a  commandment,”  he  replied  gently. 
“Tell  us,  master,”  they  asked,  “what  special 
commandment.^”  “Why,”  he  rejoined,  “it 
is  to  bathe  myself  in  the  bath-house.”  Full  of 
curiosity,  they  inquired,  “  Is  that  one  of  the 
commandments  ”  “  Yes,  indeed,”  Hillel  an¬ 

swered.  “  If  the  statues  of  kings  which  are 
placed  in  the  theatres  and  circuses  must  be 
kept  clean  and  washed,  how  much  more  should 
I  keep  my  body  clean,  for  are  we  not  all 
created  in  the  image  of  God  .?” 

Rabbi  Akiba  once  taught  for  a  time  in  the 
morning  under  a  large  fig-tree.  When  the 
fruit  grew  ripe,  the  owner  went  out  very  early 
and  gathered  the  ripe  figs.  The  rabbi  thought 
the  honesty  of  himself  and  his  disciples  was 
suspected,  and  so  chose  another  spot.  The 
owner,  troubled  that  they  had  gone,  sought 


196  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

them  out  and  asked  why  they  had  left  his 
place.  The  rabbi  told  him  the  reason.  “  I 
did  not  suspect  you,”  he  quickly  replied.  “  Re¬ 
turn,  I  entreat  you.”  They  returned  and  the 
next  morning  the  owner  did  not  gather  the 
figs;  and  when  the  sunbeams  fell  upon  the 
tree,  the  ripe  fruit  became  full  of  worms.  “  Now 
you  see,”  said  the  owner,  “  why  I  plucked  the 
fruit — because  I  did  not  desire  it  to  be  de¬ 
stroyed.”  “  And  now  you  see,”  said  Rabbi 
Akiba  to  his  disciples,  “  the  full  force  of  the 
words  in  the  Song  of  Songs  (vi.  2),  ‘  My  be¬ 
loved  is  gone  down  to  his  garden  to  gather 
lilies.’  Just  as  the  owner  of  the  fig-tree  knows 
the  exact  time  when  his  fruit  must  be  gathered, 
so  God  knows  when  the  righteous  are  to  be 
taken  from  the  world.” 

A  certain  rabbi  once  bought  a  camel  of  a 
wandering  Arab,  and  his  disciples  took  it  in 
charge.  Fancy  their  surprise,  however,  on  re¬ 
moving  the  saddle,  to  discover  a  string  of  dia¬ 
monds.  “  Master  !  ”  they  exclaimed  in  their 
excitement,  “  thou  art  favored  by  providence. 
Here  is  wealth  as  a  reward  for  thy  merits.” 
“  My  pupils,”  rejoined  the  rabbi,  “  delay  not  a 


A  STEING  OF  PEARLS, 


197 


moiTie.'.  .  Take  back  the  diamonds  to  the  man 
who  sold  me  the  animal.  I  bought  a  camel — 
not  precious  stones.”  The  owner  was  not  a 
little  surprised  to  receive  his  diamonds,  and 
blessed  the  rabbi  for  his  honesty. 

‘‘Why  do  ye  not  rustle.^”  the  fruit-trees 
were  once  asked.  “  Why  should  we  make  a 
noise  V'  they  answered.  “  We  do  not  need  to 
attract  attention.  Our  fruit  testify  in  our 
favor.”  “  Why  do  ye  stir  and  rustle  so  much  ?  ” 
the  forest  trees  were  once  questioned.  “  If  we 
did  not  make  a  noise,”  they  rejoined,  “we  would 
not  be  noticed  at  all.” 

Man  has  three  friends — children  and  other 
relatives,  wealth,  and  the  good  deeds  he  has 
performed.  When  he  is  near  his  death,  he 
calls  his  first  friend  and  beseeches  his  help. 
“  I  cannot  help  you,”  is  the  reply.  “  Does  it  not 
read  in  the  Bible,  ‘  Brother  cannot  redeem 
brother  ’  1  ”  He  turns  to  the  second  friend,  who 
says,  “  Scripture  writes,  ‘  Wealth  is  of  no 
avail  in  the  day  of  wrath.’  ”  Finally  he  appeals 
to  his  good  deeds,  who  answer,  “When  you 
approach  God’s  judgment  seat,  you  will  find 
ns  there,  ami  v/e  will  speak  in  your  favor,  as 


198  STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 

it  is  written,  ‘  Thy  righteousness  will  advance 
before  thee  when  the  glory  of  God  receives 
thee.’” 

“  Here,”  said  an  Athenian  to  a  Hebrew  lad, 
“  take  this  small  coin,  and  purchase  something 
for  it,  of  which  I  may  eat  enough,  leave  a  little 
for  my  host,  and  carry  home  a  bit  for  my  chil¬ 
dren.”  The  lad  quickly  went  and  brought 
back  salt.  “  Why  didst  thou  purchase  this  .^  ” 
the  Athenian  asked  in  anger.  “  I  did  not 
mention  salt.”  “  I  am  only  obeying  thy  in¬ 
structions,”  was  the  answer  with  a  laugh. 
“  Here  is  something  of  which  thou  mayst  eat, 
leave  some  behind,  and  have  a  bit  besides  for 
thy  little  ones.” 

How  remarkably  — so  reads  a  rabbinical 
thought — has  the  tongue  been  provided  for  in 
the  economy  of  nature  !  Its  position  is  care¬ 
fully  guarded,  being  placed  within  the  mouth. 
To  restrain  it  within  its  natural  bounds,  it  has 
two  outer  walls  — teeth  and  lips.  To  cool  its 
intense  ardor,  it  has  been  surrounded  by  a 
-special  streamlet — the  salivary  glands.  Yet 
despite  all  these  great  precautions  exercised, 
how  readily  does  it  occasion  mischief,  what 


A  STRING  OF  PEARLS,  1 99 

fierce  flame  it  arouses,  what  wretchedness  does 
it  cause  ! 

A  learned  rabbi  was  walking  one  day  amid 
the  ruins  of  Jerusalem,  accompanied  by  a 
friend.  When  he  passed  the  spot  where  for¬ 
merly  the  Temple  stood  in  all  its  splendor, 
“  Alas  !  ”  he  cried,  “  the  Temple,  where  we 
atoned  for  our  sins,  has  fallen.  How  now 
shall  we  find  atonement  >  ”  “  Do  not  trouble 

thyself,  master,”  said  his  friend  gently.  “A 
powerful  means  of  atonement  is  left  us.  Be¬ 
nevolence  will  serve  instead  of  offerings.” 

When  it  was  decreed  that  the  Law  should 
be  announced  from  the  summit  of  a  mountain, 
great  was  the  rivalry  among  the  mountains  of 
the  earth.  Each  desired  the  honor  for  itself, 
and  was  loud  in  its  own  praise.  Then  was 
heard  a  voice  which  said:  “Ye  are  mountains, 
but  ye  are  stained.  Upon  your  heights  altars 
have  arisen,  and  smoke  has  ascended  in  wor¬ 
ship  of  idols.  Sinai  alone  is  unstained,  and 
from  its  crest  shall  resound  the  Divine  word.” 

•  Rabbi  Gamaliel,  head  of  the  academy,  cele^ 
brated  his  son’s  wedding,  and  among  his  guests 
were  three  rabbis,  Elieser,  Joshua,  and  Sadok 


200 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS. 


Gamaliel  handed  a  goblet  of  wine  to  Elieser, 
who  did  not  accept  it,  being  unwilling  to  be 
served  by  so  eminent  a  scholar.  It  was  ne‘>... 
offered  to  Joshua,  who  quaffed  it  without  a  mo¬ 
ment’s  hesitation.  “  Is  it  proper,”  said  Elieser 
to  Joshua,  “  that  we  are  seated  comfortably 
here,  and  allow  ourselves  to  be  waited  on  by 
our  master  ?  ”  “  I  know  a  greater  man,*' 

Joshua  rejoined,  “who  waited  on  his  guests. 
Did  not  the  patriarch  Abraham  wait  upon  vis¬ 
itors  who  he  thought  to  be  Arabian  travelers, 
not  angels  ”  “How  long,”  Sadok  observed, 
“  will  you  talk  about  the  honor  of  mankind 
and  forget  the  glory  of  the  Creator  ?  Does 
not  God  wait  upon  humanity  ?  Does  He  not 
let  the  winds  blow  and  the  clouds  descend  ? 
Does  He  not  send  rain  to  fructify  the  soil, 
that  plants  may  spring  forth  ?  Does  He 
not  then  set  the  table  for  every  living 
being  ?  ” 

For  every  living  being  !  That  was  the  uni- 
versalism  of  the  rabbis,  and  while,  in  times  of 
sharp  distress  and  bitter  recrimination,  their 
utterances  were  human  in  their  passion  and 
agony,  that  spirit  of  broad  humanity  was  never 


A  STR  ^NG  OF  PEARLS 


201 


wholly  absert.  A  heathen,”  said  Rabbi 
Meir,  “  who  occupies  himself  with  the  law  of 
God  stands  in  the  same  rank  as  the  high  prif  st.” 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM. 

IT  was  the  moment  of  supremest  pleasure  to 
Abner.  The  wedding  canopy  had  been 
raised,  the  benediction  uttered,  the  ring  placed  on 
the  bride’s  finger,  the  kiss  given  to  seal  the  union. 
She  was  his  own  at  last;  his  highest  ambition 
had  been  gratified.  With  words  of  congratula¬ 
tion  his  friends  crowded  around  him;  it  was  a 
joyous  atmosphere,  indeed,  while  his  wife  gazed 
at  him  with  the  love-light  in  her  eyes. 

“Dearest,”  he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  as  he  with¬ 
drew  with  her  for  a  moment  to  a  corner  of  the 
apartment  which  overlooked  the  garden  with  its 
winding  paths,  from  which  strains  of  music  arose, 
inviting  all  to  the  dance;  “dearest,  I  must  leave 
thee  now.” 

“O  Abner,”  the  bride  half  sobbed  in  reply, 
“wouldst  thou  leave  me  at  this  moment  of  all 
moments  in  the  world?  Why,  the  echoes  of 
the  marriage  blessings  still  resound  in  the  air. 


202 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM 


203 


Whither  wouldst  thou  go,  dearest?  Surely she 
added,  with  a  look  of  reproach,  “thy  place  is 
now  at  my  side.  Wouldst  thou  forsake  me  on 
our  wedding  day?’’ 

“Nay,  my  beloved ;  make  no  close  inquiry,  nor 
seek  to  restrain  me.  I  must  go.  I  have  sworn 
to  go.  Only  trust  in  me,  and  doubt  not  my 
faithfulness.  I  shall  return  within  an  hour,  and 
then  explain  all  to  thee.  Have  no  fear  for  my 
sake.”  And  without  further  farewell  than  a  quick 
embrace,  Abner  left  her  and  hurried  into  the  open 
air  before  the  astonished  guests  could  realize 
that  the  bridegroom  was  missing. 

5fS  *  * 

Of  all  the  youth  in  Jerusalem,  Abner  and  Caleb 
were  the  comeliest  lads,  and  their  friendship  had 
grown  into  a  proverb.  Close  companions  at 
school  from  boyhood  to  early  manhood,  no  love 
could  have  been  more  tender,  no  sympathy  more 
profound,  than  that  which  made  them  kindred 
spirits.  They  were  fond  of  the  same  pleasures, 
they  shared  the  same  dreams,  their  studies  and 
occupations  were  alike,  their  aspirations  identical. 
They  loved  to  give  free  rein  to  their  fancies  with 


204 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


youth’s  rapt  enthusiasm,  and  build  such  dream 
palaces  that  the  magic  splendor  of  Solomon’s  cre¬ 
ations  paled  in  comparison.  What  a  daring  ar¬ 
chitect  is  youth!  It  knows  not  the  impossible. 
It  bridges  the  chasm  of  infinite  time;  it  rears 
a  structure  to  the  highest  heaven.  It  summons 
to  its  aid  principalities  and  powers,  and  never 
acknowledges  defeat.  Love  and  hope  and  faith 
are  the  patient  genii  who  at  its  exultant  bidding 
transform  earth  and  sky. 

Among  the  topics  which  Abner  and  Caleb  were 
fond  of  discussing  as  they  grew  to  maturity,  the 
future  life  and  immortality  most  strongly  ap¬ 
pealed  to  them.  The  fact  that  it  was  but  dimly 
foreshadowed  in  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  added 
to  its  fascination,  and  the  rare  references  to  it  in 
the  debates  of  the  schools  only  increased  its 
hold  upon  them.  One  day,  in  the  heat  of  their 
arguments,  Caleb,  more  impassioned  than  usual, 
seized  his  companion’s  hand. 

“Abner,”  he  exclaimed,  “wouldst  thou  know  the 
secrets  of  eternal  life?” 

“Why,  Caleb,”  Abner  rejoined,  moved  by  his 
friend’s  earnestness,  “what  a  strange  question  to 
ask!  How  can  we  mortals  understand  aught  of 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM 


205 


immortality?  Does  not  our  Law  say  that  ‘the 
secret  things  belong  to  the  Lord’?” 

“Faith  can  pierce  all  barriers,  dear  friend,” 
Caleb  answered,  impressively,  “and  love,  though 
buried  from  sight,  can  make  its  own  revelation.” 

“What  dost  thou  mean,  Caleb,  by  those  mys¬ 
terious  words  and  thrilling  tones?”  Abner  in¬ 
quired,  deeply  stirred,  for  he  felt  that  never  be¬ 
fore  had  their  conversation  been  so  earnest. 

“Dost  thou  not  believe,  Abner,  in  immortal¬ 
ity  ?” 

“Surely,  Caleb,  I  do,  as  the  central  conviction 
of  my  nature.” 

“If  this  is  thy  belief,  then,  may  not  the  im¬ 
mortal  spirit  seek  converse  with  mortality  and 
minister  to  the  wants  and  desires  of  mortal  flesh 
on  earth?” 

“Caleb,  thou  shouldst  not  speak  in  this  strain. 
It  is  almost  blasphemy.  Think  of  the  fate  of 
the  sons  of  Aaron,  who  brought  strange  fire  into 
the  sanctuary.” 

“Nay,  Abner,  I  am  guilty  of  no  blasphemy. 
I  am  convinced  that  those  who  pass  from  life 
do  not  become  as  petrified  as  the  slabs  that 
cover  them.  They  hover  around  those  who  loved 


2o6 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


them  and  whom  they  loved  on  earth,  and  mingle 
in  their  joys  and  sorrows.’^ 

'‘It  must  be  so,  Caleb,  if  thou  thinkest  so,’^ 
said  Abner,  after  a  pause. 

“Come,  Abner,’’  Caleb  solemnly  exclaimed, 
“let  us  swear  by  the  Eternal  that  if  either  of  us 
die  the  survivor  shall  seek  to  communicate  with 
the  departed  one  and  visit  the  sepulchre  at  the 
moment  of  his  highest  happiness  on  earth.  Then 
it  is  my  fervent  belief  that  the  secret  of  heavenly 
happiness  will  be  unfolded,  and  we  shall  attain 
the  highest  degree  of  intelligence.” 

The  compact  was  made — an  unusual  thing  in 
those  days  among  the  pious  Jewish  youth  to  in¬ 
voke  the  Lord’s  name — and  the  conversation 
ended.  In  a  few  years  Caleb  died,  and  Abner, 
disconsolate  and  dejected,  disdained  for  a  while 
all  society,  but  spent  the  largest  share  of  his 
leisure  at  the  friend’s  grave,  reflecting  on  his 
genial  traits  and  their  loving  intercourse.  Time, 
however,  works  its  magical  changes,  and  now  he 
had  married. 

5k  5k 

“I  had  almost  forgotten  thee,  beloved  Caleb,” 
said  Abner  softly  to  himself,  as  he  left  the 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM 


207 

crowded  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  gained  the 
roadway  leading  to  the  cemetery.  ^‘Surely  this 
is  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life,  wedded  to  the 
one  I  hold  most  dear.  Could  there  be  a  more 
fitting  time  to  think  of  thee  and  our  mutual 
oath 

It  did  not  take  long,  for  the  distance  was 
short  and  he  walked  with  hurried  steps,  before 
Abner  found  himself  close  to  the  simple  slab 
that  covered  the  remains  of  Caleb.  Flinging 
himself  upon  it,  he  gave  way  to  his  emotions,  but 
by  a  strong  effort  his  self-control  gained  the 
mastery.  Then  he  communed  thus  with  the  spirit 
of  his  friend: 

“Beloved  Caleb,  not  with  fear  and  trembling, 
but  with  glad  confidence  I  approach  thee.  Thou 
rememberest  our  oath.  I  have  come  to  thy  grave 
at  the  full  tide  of  my  happiness,  to  learn  of  thy 
experience  in  the  realms  of  bliss.  Thou  recallest 
our  converse  in  those  joyous  days  of  youth  when 
it  was  our  desire  to  pierce  all  mystery.  Be 
near  to  me  now,  dear  friend,  and  in  thy  purified 
state  uplift  the  veil  which  hides  the  mortal  from 
the  immortal.  Inspire  me  now,  O  Caleb,  with 
the  knowledge  I  seek,  and  let  me  not  ask  in  vain.’^ 


2o8 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


Abner  ceased,  half  expectant  of  some  response. 
But  no  voice  broke  the  stillness.  The  shadows 
of  evening  were  deepening.  One  by  one  the 
stars  shone  in  the  firmament.  Abner  failed  to 
notice  the  advancing  night  in  his  rapt  contem¬ 
plation.  Then  a  faint  murmuring  rent  the  air, 
and  the  trees  that  skirted  the  burial  ground 
seemed  to  give  forth  a  sobbing  sound. 

“O  Caleb,’^  Abner  entreated,  with  oustretched 
hands,  “answer  me.  By  the  ineffable  name  of 
God,  answer  me.’^ 

The  tremulous  weeping  of  a  child  was  borne 
on  the  breeze.  A  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the 
distant  hills,  and  a  rumbling  as  of  thunder  was 
heard. 

“Do  I  disturb  thee,  O  Caleb,  from  thy  rest? 
Forgive  me,  beloved  friend.  But  answer  me,  as 
thou  didst  swear  to  do.  Tell  me  the  delights 
of  immortal  life.’^ 

“Abner,  Abner  At  the  words  Abner’s 
countenance  shone  with  sudden  joy.  “At  last!” 
he  exclaimed,  “at  last,  I  hear  thy  voice  again.” 

“Abner,  such  a  delight  is  mine  as  is  compar¬ 
able  truly  to  no  earthly  bliss.  So  pure,  so  radiant, 
so  serene,  are  my  companions  that  my  voice  can- 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM 


not  describe  a  thousandth  portion  of  my  happi¬ 
ness.  Have  no  regret  at  our  severed  friendship. 
A  sweeter,  stronger  bond  unites  us  now.  Dost 
thou  yearn  to  see  again  my  features  and  clasp 
my  hands  as  of  old?  Why,  I  am  nearer  to  thee 
than  in  the  past,  and  my  eye  sees  clearer  within 
where  spirit  responds  to  spirit  and  all  is  at  per¬ 
fect  peace.  I  have  solved  the  mystery.  I  have 
gained  the  heights.” 

The  voice  ceased  for  a  moment,  and  then  it 
resumed : 

“More  could  I  tell  thee.  But  dost  thou  know 
the  penalty?  A  thousand  years  on  ^arth  are  but 
as  a  moment  in  eternity.  Even  as  thou  commun- 
est  with  me  here,  beloved  friend,  the  years  van¬ 
ish  and  life  recedes.  Ah,  hasten,  hasten,  ere  it 
be  too  late.  Thy  bride  awaits  thee  and 
wonders  why  thou  art  tarrying.  Wouldst  thou 
learn  the  secret  of  eternal  life?  Make  thy  earth 
a  heaven  and  live  well  thy  mortal  years,  with 
their  alternate  sunshine  and  shade,  as  best  prepa¬ 
ration  for  immortality !  Heaven  begins  on  earth 
— there  is  no  chasm  between  the  two  worlds.  But 
hasten,  hasten !  I  dare  speak  no  more,  for  thine 
own  dear  sake.” 


210 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


Again  a  child’s  tremulous  wail  was  borne  to 
Abner’s  ear.  There  came  a  flash  of  lightning  and 
the  muttering  of  thunder.  Then  the  shadows 
lifted,  and  it  was  sunrise  on  earth,  with  a  fresh, 
cheerful  air  sweeping  across  the  hills. 

“Why,  I  have  been  sleeping,”  Abner  exclaimed, 
rising  with  difficulty  from  the  ground.  “How 
careless  on  my  part!  My  limbs  are  as  stiff  as 
an  old  man’s,  and  my  shaggy  beard  has  grown 
over  night!  A  pretty  figure  to  meet  my  bride,” 
he  muttered,  as  he  moved  with  hesitating  steps 
toward  Jerusalem.  He  gained  the  old  roadway, 
although  its  lines  had  changed.  He  did  not 
recognize  the  fields  in  which  some  peasants  were 
ploughing,  while  on  every  side  were  scattered 
debris  and  heaps  of  stone. 

“Almighty!”  he  entreated,  as  he  strained  his 
sight  for  the  accustomed  glory  of  the  temple 
m.ount.  “Where  art  thou  vanished,  O  Jerusalem  ? 
O  beloved  bride,  shall  I  see  thee  no  more  ?  Must 
I  pay  such  a  penalty  for  a  moment’s  bliss  ?  Home, 
friends,  country — ^have  I  lost  ye  all?” 

Abner  had  dreamed  seventy  years,  and  when 
the  dream-cloud  had  lifted,  bride  and  friends  had 
long  since  died.  The  Temple  had  fallen  and 


THE  VANISHED  BRIDEGROOM 


,211 


Jerusalem  had  become  a  ruin — the  spoil  of  tri¬ 
umphant  Rome. 

In  seeking  to  pierce  the  mysteries  of  the  fu¬ 
ture,  the  present  had  passed  from  view,  and 
left  Abner  in  solitude — that  was  the  penalty  of 
seeing  visions. 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST. 

T  T  was  late  afternoon  in  harvest  time,  and  the 
*  fields  were  full  of  golden  glory.  In  the 
genial  climate  of  Samaria  each  year  the  wheat 
and  corn  ripened  as  luxuriantly  as  flower  and 
fruit.  But  of  all  the  farmers,  the  choicest  har¬ 
vest  seemed  to  come  to  Abdon’s  field  of  corn, 
from  year  to  year.  How  the  man’s  heart  swelled 
with  gratitude  as  he  strolled  up  and  down  with 
his  son  in  the  invigorating  air !  It  would  be  soon 
sunset.  It  was  already  cooler,  and  delicious  rest 
would  be  their  good  fortune  that  night. 

‘^oash,  the  priest,  was  here  this  morning,  my 
son,”  Abdon  said,  gazing  fondly  at  the  out¬ 
spread  field,  ‘‘and  I  told  him  that  I  would  have 
the  tithe  sent  in  a  day  or  two.  This  year  I  shall 
have  at  least  a  thousand  sheaves — it  has  been  a 
bountiful  season — and  I  shall  set  aside  one-tenth 
for  holy  use.” 

“But,  father,”  the  son  exclaimed  a  little  im¬ 
patiently,  “would  not  fifty  suffice?  Why  give 
away  so  much?” 


212 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST  213 

‘^Nay,  Caleb,  my  son.  That  is  not  spoken  with 
your  usual  wisdom*.  The  tenth  part  of  our 
produce  shall  be  the  Lord’s,  so  runs  the  olden 
mandate.  Is  that  too  much  to  return  to  the  Lord 
for  all  His  bounty  ?  Does  He  not  give  us  the  rich 
harvest,  does  He  not  send  sunshine  and  rain, 
wind  and  calm,  summer  and  winter?  Where 
would  we  be  without  His  watchful  care  day 
and  night?  One  hundred  sheaves  will  be  taken 
for  the  sanctuary  as  our  grateful  offering  and 
happy,  thrice  happy  am  I,  that  we  can  give  so 
much !” 

'‘But,  father,”  the  son  again  protested,  “surely 
we  might  save  half  of  that  and  put  it  aside  for 
the  future.  Corn  is  growing  more  valuable,  and 
the  money  will  enable  us  to  enlarge  our  home, 
will  it  not?” 

“The  Lord  has  not  abandoned  us,  nor  has  His 
power  weakened,  that  we  should  distrust  His 
providence.  My  son,  would  it  not  be  robbery  to 
withhold  from  one  what  is  his  due?” 

“Certainly,  father.  That  admits  of  no  doubt.” 

“Then,  Caleb,  it  is  robbery  to  withhold  from 
the  Almighty  the  tenth  that  is  His.  And  sup¬ 
pose  we  were  to  enlarge  our  house  by  such  ill- 


214 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


gotten  gains.  Why,  it  would  be  a  den  of  thieves, 
accursed,  unholy.”  And  Abdon’s  voice  trembled 
in  his  agitation. 

^‘Forgive  me,  father,  if  I  have  disquieted  you,” 
Caleb  replied,  with  heightened  color.  “I  know 
that  the  earth  and  all  its  produce  are  the  Lord’s, 
but  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  bestow  so  much 
on  the  tabernacle.” 

“My  dearest  son,”  Abdon  answered  slowly, 
“make  this  your  rule  in  life — never  begrudge  what 
you  give  to  the  tabernacle,  the  gifts  of  a  loving, 
grateful  heart  in  the  service  of  God  and  man. 
Come,  let  us  return.” 

The  months  passed  swiftly,  and  one  day  Ab¬ 
don,  who  was  beginning  to  feel  the  increasing 
weaknesses  of  age — he  was  over  seventy — real¬ 
ized  that  his  end  was  approaching.  So  he  called 
one  evening  his  son  to  his  bedside,  and  kissing 
him  warmly,  said,  “My  beloved  son,  the  time  is 
at  hand  when  my  spirit  will  return  to  Him  who 
gave  it.  I  feel  the  weight  of  my  years.  I  can¬ 
not  remain  much  longer  on  earth.  You  must 
know  this,  without  any  word  of  mine.” 

“Father,  father,”  sobbed  the  son.  “Father,  do 
not  tell  me  this.  You  are  strong  for  your  years. 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST 


215 


You  have  rarely  had  a  day  of  illness.  God  will 
not  take  you  from  us.” 

“My  son,”  Abdon  continued  in  a  firm,  clear 
tone,  “obey  God’s  voice  in  all  things.  Follow  the 
righteous  path  laid  down  by  our  sages.  Forget 
not,  whatever  happens,  to  give  to  the  sanctuary 
one-tenth  each  year  of  all  your  wealth,  as  God 
has  commanded  us.  And  so  the  Almighty’s 
blessing  will  rest  on  you,  and  you  and  yours  will 
be  happy  in  the  love  of  God  and  man.” 

He  kissed  his  son  and  bade  him  good  night. 
And  in  the  morning,  the  father,  so  loving  and 
righteous,  passed  away. 

The  son’s  grief  was  sincere.  He  mourned  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  customs  of  his  people.  He  missed 
the  father  deeply,  and  the  dwelling  seemed  a 
solitude  now  that  he  was  seen  no  more.  His 
kindly  voice,  his  pious  ways,  his  earnest  counsel, 
his  daily  benediction — these  had  become  a 
memory. 

“I  shall  obey  my  father’s  instructions,”  said 
Caleb  to  himself.  “I  shall  give  the  full  tenth 
of  my  produce  to  the  priests  for  the  tabernacle. 
May  the  Almighty  bestow  upon  me  a  share  of 
my  father’s  gracious  spirit!” 


2i6 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


The  first  year  the  field  bore  a  magnificent  crop 
of  corn — it  was  the  wonder  and  admiration  of 
his  neighbors.  The  corn  stood  high  and  waved 
with  each  passing  breeze  as  if  in  devout  thank¬ 
fulness  to  the  Maker  of  seed  time  and  harvest, 
summer  and  winter.  It  yielded  a  thousand 
sheaves,  and  Caleb  sent  promptly  the  tenth  part 
to  the  priest,  who  thanked  him  for  his  piety. 
And  his  friends  among  themselves  were  never 
weary  of  repeating  his  praise. 

Who  can  foresee  the  workings  of  the  human 
heart?  Who  can  foretell  the  contrary  winds  that 
sweep  out  of  its  course  the  ship  which  leaves 
port  so  hopefully?  And  the  day  that  opens  so 
brightly,  can  we  be  certain  that  its  radiance  and 
charm  long  before  evening  will  not  vanish  in 
storm  and  rain?  Our  best  resolves,  our  ardent 
wishes  for  goodness — are  these  always  perma¬ 
nent?  Do  they  not  often  suffer  a  sad  and  sud¬ 
den  change? 

The  second  year  after  his  father’s  death,  as 
Caleb  was  watching  his  field  a  month  or  more 
before  the  harvest,  and  was  anticipating  a  still 
larger  yield  of  corn  to  reward  his  labor,  he  said 
to  himself,  “What  folly  to  give  away  what 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST 


2iy 


my  own!  It  is  my  field,  my  corn,  my  toil  each 
day.  What  right  have  I  to  rob  myself  in  mis¬ 
taken  piety?  This  year  I  shall  be  wiser.  I  shall 
keep  for  myself  every  ear  of  corn.  It  is  my 
property.” 

The  harvest  came — it  was'  a  joyous  scene 
in  every  field.  The  labor  of  the  season  was 
sweetened  by  song  and  dance,  and  the  sanctu¬ 
ary  was  not  forgotten  by  the  grateful  people. 
But  Caleb  sent  no  offering.  He  kept  all  the 
golden  sheaves  for  himself.  How  his  neighbors 
wondered,  and  many  seemed  grieved.  But  they 
kept  their  thoughts  to  themselves.  Silence  is 
wisdom,  reads  the  olden  proverb. 

The  third  year  was  in  rapid  flight.  When  we 
are  young,  how  slowly  the  years  pace  along  1  Each 
minute  is  like  an  hour,  and  each  month  seems 
without  possibility  of  end.  When  we  grow  older, 
each  hour  is  like  a  minute,  each  month  a  week, 
each  year  a  day,  so  swiftly  vanishes  God’s  most 
precious  and  least  valued  gift — time ! 

The  harvest  was  now  rapidly  approaching.  One 
day,  as  Caleb  was  observing  closely  his  field,  he 
noticed  to  his  great  surprise  that  the  com  ap¬ 
peared  hardly  as  sturdy  as  of  old.  It  was  cer- 


2i8 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


tainly  less  luxuriant;  there  were  empty  patches 
here  and  there.  In  alarm  he  strove  to  thin  out 
the  less  satisfactory  portions,  and  by  repeated 
waterings  to  give  fresh  life  and  vigor  to  the  rest. 
Despite  his  efforts,  early  and  late,  in  which  he 
was  aided  by  a  large  number  of  helpers,  the 
harvest  yield  was  only  five  hundred  sheaves — 
half  the  produce  of  the  previous  year ! 

Great  was  his  dismay  as  he  saw  how  fruitless 
had  been  his  toil.  He  had  rarely  experienced  so 
bitter  a  disappointment.  He  resolved,  however, 
that  the  following  year  would  make  ample 
amends  and  restore  the  old-time  productiveness. 
He  spared  no  pains.  He  hired  efficient  help.  He 
applied  every  known  method  of  improving  the 
soil.  There  was  not  a  day  which  found  him 
absent  from  his  post,  watching  every  growth, 
destroying  every  apparent  imperfection.  And 
now  when  the  harvest  time  neared,  he  felt  con¬ 
fident  that  all  would  be  well. 

How  keen  was  again  his  disappointment !  The 
field,  so  carefully  tilled  and  planted,  yielded  only 
one  hundred  sheaves.  How  could  he  now  avert 
impending  ruin  and  disgrace?  How  could  he 
wrestle  with  such  persistent  misfortune  ?  He  had 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST 


219 


done  his  best — he  must  accept  calmly  the  wreck 
of  his  fortune.  Poverty  was  to  be  his  life-com¬ 
panion — he  upon  whom  prosperity  had  always 
smiled.  In  his  despair  he  kept  within  his  dwell¬ 
ing,  half  ashamed  to  meet  his  neighbors,  and 
knowing  with  absolute  certainty  that  the  day  was 
near  when  he  would  be  obliged  to  sell  home  and 
field,  and  wander  elsewhere  for  a  livelihood.  Such 
incidents  were  part  of  human  life — ^but  that  he 
should  be  singled  out  for  such  a  fate  was  crush¬ 
ing  to  a  man  of  his  pride  and  self-confidence. 

It  was  a  bright  afternoon  a  few  weeks  after 
the  harvest,  and  he  was  seated  in  his  home,  not 
in  the  best  of  humor,  for  he  could  not  help  think¬ 
ing  of  the  ruin  that  was  impending,  when  a 
number  of  his  friends  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
He  ran  to  meet  them,  begging  them  to  enter,  but 
amazed  to  observe  that  they  were  in  festal  gar¬ 
ments. 

"‘Friends,^'  was  his  startled  exclamation,  ‘‘what 
do  you  want  ?  Why  do  you  wear  festal  raiment  ? 
Have  you  come,  perhaps,  to  feast  your  eyes  on 
my  poverty?”  And  he  covered  his  face,  as  if 
in  shame. 

“Nay,  Caleb,”  one  of  them  replied,  feelingly. 


220 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


“You  are  mistaken.  We  have  not  come  to  mock 
you  or  to  hold  you  to  scorn.  But  we  are  wearing 
the  same  garments  as  when  we  took  our  tithes 
to  the  sanctuary.  Would  you  learn  why?  It  is 
to  greet  you  as  priest!’^ 

“I  a  priest !’’  rejoined  Caleb  in  amazement.  “I 
a  priest !  You  must  be  jesting,  friends.’’ 

“No,  we  are  not  jesting,  Caleb,”  came  the 
answer.  “We  are  here  to  aid  you  all  we  can. 
Our  truest  friends  are  those  who  point  out  to 
us  firmly,  yet  kindly,  our  faults  and  weaknesses. 
And  you,  you  alone,  are  to  blame  for  all  that 
has  happened  to  you.  It  is  your  greed,  your 
selfish  nature,  that  has  held  you  by  an  iron  chain, 
and  held  you  fast.” 

“Explain  yourself,”  Caleb  interrupted,  indig¬ 
nantly.  “What  do  you  mean  by  such  a  charge?” 

“It  is  true,  every  word.  Did  not  your  father 
bequeath  to  you  a  holy  trust?  Did  he  not  on 
his  deathbed  entreat  you  to  remember  the  source 
of  your  wealth,  the  bountiful  Giver  of  Sunlight, 
wind,  rain,  and  fertile  soil?  Did  he  not?”  He 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  continued:  “Your  loving  father, 
whose  memory  is  an  everlasting  blessing,  asked 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  HARVEST 


221 


you  almost  with  his  last  breath  to  give  to  the 
priest,  as  the  law  commands,  one-tenth  of  your 
produce.  So  long  as  you  obeyed,  you  prospered, 
did  you  not?  God  was  the  priest  to  whom  you 
gave  your  tithe  as  owner  of  the  corn.  A  hun¬ 
dred  sheaves  He  received  from  you,  and  gave  you 
nine  hundred.  Ah,  if  you  had  kept  to  that  prac¬ 
tice,  the  result  would  have  been  different.  But 
the  time  came  when  your  pride  and  greed  led 
you  astray,  and  you  refused  to  pay  your  debt — 
the  tenth  part  of  your  harvest.  At  once  the 
Almighty,  the  creator  and  possessor  of  the  whole 
earth,  became  the  owner  of  the  field,  and  you, 
Caleb,  was  but  the  priest  with  only  a  hundred 
sheaves  as  your  share.  Do  you  realize  the  change  ? 
Is  the  meaning  clear?'' 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  and  then 
Caleb,  standing  proudly  erect,  and  extending  to 
them  his  right  hand,  exclaimed: 

“Friends  and  neighbors,  I  thank  you  sincerely 
for  your  rebuke.  You  are  true  friends.  I  shall 
try  to  profit  by  your  words  of  reproof  and  wis¬ 
dom.  As  for  the  Almighty,  His  ways  are  just. 
My  eyes,  so  long  blinded  by  my  selfish  greed, 
have  been  opened  at  last.  Here  in  the  presence 


222 


STORIES  FROM  THE  RABBIS 


of  the  Almighty  God,  and  with  you  as  witnesses, 
I  solemnly  vow  to  cherish  my  beloved  father’s 
counsel.  Greed  and  pride  shall  no  longer  con¬ 
trol  my  motives,  but  the  fear  of  the  Lord  and 
the  love  of  His  law.  And  each  year,  whether 
the  harvest  be  large  or  small,  the  tenth  will  be 
given  to  the  sanctuary,  the  grateful  offering  of 
my  humbled  heart.” 

Joyfully  his  friends  left  the  dwelling.  Their 
mission  was  accomplished.  They  felt  confident 
that  Caleb  would  no  more  neglect  his  duties,  and 
that  prosperity  would  return  to  his  home  and  ^ 
field. 


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